Liquor, Leaf and Ladies
by KesseliaBanta
Summary: -Complete- Hobbit boys-turned-men drink away post-traumatic stress and discover life’s greatest challenge: women.
1. Part 1 Frodo

**Lord of the Rings: Liquor, Leaf and Ladies**

**Kesselia Banta, January 2004**

_All Hail J.R.R. Tolkien!_

Author's note: In my opinion, Tolkien left no room for fanfiction, and he did a wonderful job doing it. However, I haven't read The Hobbit in a couple of decades, so details on the original work are fuzzy at best. I opted to use only the data from the movies so I could play with the boys a bit - good honest fun. 

This is a five part story to include a domestic trauma for each Hobbit and a group finale, but Frodo's so far behind in the dating game that he had to maintain an increasing level of frustration throughout it all -- poor kid. _('Kid'? I would think I've earned a higher title by now. - FB_) As soon as the characters took over the story, the language and metaphors got a little. . . adult. . .  in places, dang Brandybuck,  (_Hay now! Pippin started it! - MB_) but it's nothing your average teenager can't handle._ (I did not. - PT) (Yes, you did. Remember the flower plucking comment? Frodo was red a cherry.- MB)_ Clearly, the boys are having troubles containing themselves. _(Funny you should mention cherries. – PT)_ Now that the story is written, they are sprawled, victoriously intoxicated, in the Character Lounge that exists only in back of my mind. _(She's even got a frig in here. Ooh, Subway sammich! - SG)_ The other four parts of the story will be cleaned up and posted in short order. ((crunch crunch) _Oi, who's the wanker on the wall with the Scooby Doo haircut? – PT_) That's Luke Skywalker. _(Who?)  (Old boyfriend, Pip. Don't go there. – SG)_ I have to go take my meds now. 

Enjoy the story.

Kess

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**Part 1 - Frodo**

Frodo faces post-Ring pessimism and an unshaking sense of moral duty with a new girl in town. . .  and the public grants him the rights to do as he pleases, as long as the little wench isn't after the money. Enter Lauren: the only type of woman that will never see Frodo as the Ring Bearer is one that has no recollection of the Ring.

_Frodo's Wish _

_An Odd Shaped Guest_

_Devious Peek of the Goods_

_What's a Hobbit?_

_Sam Hogs Girls_

_An Insulting Honor_

_Specters in Bed_

_Chickens that Multiply_

_Weathertop – Just Your Average Camping Accident_

_Giggle Juice_

_Flirting 101_

_A Critical Review of the Little Wench_

_The Blush Test_

_Frodo Winds Up for the Pitch_

_Mrs. Byanka_

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**_Frodo's Wish_**

The heat was overpowering. He hyperventilated little gasps to keep the torrid air and burning ash from going too deep in his lungs. The lava was glowing as it slid by the rock on which they took refuge. Sam mumbled longings of a girl with his fading voice. It was a sad thing, but Frodo was envious. He could remember everything else about home now, but he couldn't remember any girls. Perhaps it was best this way – no one would be wailing over his memory. No one would miss him. . . . He felt the lava finally eat away the splintery crag on which they were draped. In tiny jerks, the stone tripped downward to be eaten entirely by the molten flow, Sam and Frodo included.

Half of him was thankful the end had finally come, that the pain would stop and peace would be found, but the other half of him wasn't ready to go. So he screamed in his mind. He could hear almost audible thoughts of his own voice hollering with terror and anger, until the desperation in his own heart shook him awake again.

Frodo punched into the real world with a sudden roll onto one elbow. His temples and hair were dripping with sweat in the desperate attempt to protect his body from the heat of an erupting volcano. His chest heaved for fresh oxygen so rapidly that the snowy chill stung his throat. He blinked hard to accept that it was just a nightmare and dropped backward on the bed with weary expression torn between relief and frustration.

The relief gave way to melancholy. The frustration grew to a dull anger. His dropped a hand on his forehead and stared up at a ceiling he really couldn't see. It had been well over a year already. The dreams still came. The ache in his shoulder still cried out. The days looked the same. It felt like he was still getting accustomed to being back in the Shire again. When would the new life start? When will the happiness return to flood his face with smiles? They'd been home nearly as long as they were gone. How much longer until he could put it all behind him?

For a moment, he caught it before it galloped into reality, the sadness for what he had lost; the tendency to feel sorry for himself. Frodo climbed out of bed with moves as awake as they would be in morning as if hurrying would help him leave the nightmare behind him. 

The white bedclothes weren't as white as they used to be, but they still hung down to his wrists and ankles enough to keep him warm. He kicked a wood chest that had been left in the hall and cussed under his breath to limp through the kitchen. He grabbed a bottle of dark wine by its neck. He'd started it yesterday. There was hardly a chalice-full left. Then he moved blindly into the front smial without bothering to light up a candle and yanked out the stubborn cork with a hollow pop. He tossed the cork into the corner, so disgruntled by the dream he didn't care where it fell. 

From a small cube shaped drawer, Frodo pulled out a pouch of leaf and an old, resin-scarred pipe. Frodo realized he was becoming habitual about it. Somehow, a quiet pipe helped him think. And since thinking was what Frodo's mind apparently wanted to do, he thought that this might speed it along with a bit of Longbottom so he could go back to sleep. 

It wasn't as flavorful as he would have liked it to be, but it burned okay. The wine doused his mouth with a wet, fruity way to numb his senses. He sat sideways on the thick wood storage chest by the wall and gazed out the porthole to the front yard. Snow fluttered silently to the ground and his sleeping garden looked to be dusted lightly in sugar. It was a late, small-flaked snow. It probably would not last a day even if it snowed long enough to get deep, but it hushed the night into a drowsy silence just so Frodo could feel completely alone.

Nothing was the same. Sam called it wisdom, but he always had a way of embellishing things. Pippin admitted that he too was cursed with a foul dream from time to time and blamed both of their ailments on the physical contact with the Ring and that orb. Merry would blame it on the wounds of war that ached when the weather changed. Frodo could accept that all these were true, at least in part, but he felt there was something more. It felt as if the Ring itself was sending evil aftershocks in his direction; looking for revenge about being destroyed. 

Frodo felt permanently cursed. . .  or permanently burdened, which is just as much of a curse as anything befitting the wider description. He stared at the tiny, fluttering flakes with a blank stare, puffing mindlessly at the pipe he cradled in his fingers even after it no longer had anything to burn, and hugging the cool bottle to his shoulder even when it was hollow of liquid. Soon enough, he rested the pipe on his knee, his head back on the wall, and pulled in a deep sigh. 

"I wish I could have the life I always wanted," he whispered to the snow sprinkled night. "But I don't remember what that was." He nearly smiled with the irony, but the truth of it stung his heart even more. He sighed again, deep and intense so that the breeze in his body would blow-dry the tears before they made it to his eyes. The cold air cleaned out his lungs like he'd washed them with spring water, but it did nothing to his soured soul. The corner of his mouth weakly grinned only to recognize how pathetic he had become. 

Frodo scolded himself with no more than a shake of his head, tapped the ash into a tray, and shuffled wearily back into bed. He slept better than he did earlier, but it was without comfort. And, thankfully, the nightmare was tossed from his thoughts by morning.

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**_An Odd Shaped Guest_**

Frodo went mechanically to the business of rebuilding the rotting chicken coop. The soft wood of the ancient cage felt like it was turning to powder under his fingers. The four chickens clucked invisibly from within while Frodo nailed together a pine replacement. 

As expected, the light sprinkle of snow only lasted as long as the sun wasn't directly on it. Only pockets of the stuff remained in the corners where the yawning shadows of morning protected the wet flakes. But the sun was rising almost directly in front of Bag End. Frodo was working in back of it so the chill still nipped at the points of his ears as he worked.

"Good morning, Mister Frodo" Sam said brightly as he rounded the corner to Bag End's back end. He already had the smile of a cheery day on his face and carried two steamy cups in his hands. "I hope you slept well."

Frodo gave him a damp grin, appreciative but still melancholy, and took the extra mug Sam offered. "Good morning."

Sam nodded at the cup Frodo was already sipping from. "She put in a touch of sugar and a bit of milk for you this time."

Frodo enjoyed the smooth tea on his cold throat and nodded again. "You have a sweet wife, Sam."

Sam smiled at that and started-

Someone screamed.

Both of them halted to listen. It had come from somewhere south of Bag End. It sounded like Grandma Bolgers down by the water. Her unique voice was recognizable even through her yelp. But it wasn't a yelp fear of a danger. She had been startled. 

There was a long beat of silence. Sam and Frodo exchanged glances.

Grandma Bolgers cried to an apparent rescuer. "Fetch the doctor!"

Frodo and Sam jumped into action, speed quickly through the house, fumbled not to spill tea as they left their mugs by the front door, and ran out to slam open the front gate. Worry had struck their faces about who it was that was hurt. They sped quickly down the south side of the Hill and leaped through grass and around sheep as shortcuts, adding to the growing collection of startled Hobbits on the bank of the pond.

Many had stopped on top of the stone bridge to look down at the lifeless lump Grandma Bolgers had discovered. Two men had gathered around to pull the body out of the reeds. The face was whitened with cold. Sam skipped to change directions. "I'll get a blanket."

Frodo passed the scene and ran up the bridge, dodging people who hugged the side to see the action, and as soon as he found a spot to do so, he leapt over the railing and splashed butt-first into the pond, rudely snagging everyone's attention. They didn't know who jumped until Frodo's popped up like a cork.

The water was a biting cold and made his skin prickle painfully. He swam clumsily up behind the halfling body to dislodge it from the reeds and push it closer to the wooden platform that Grandma Bolgers had been washing from so the others could grab it.

The doctor was trotting down the bank with his bag. Mister Grubbs and Meriadoc were working in concert to get a grip on the lifeless thing from murky base of the cattails and pull her in. Frodo pushed the weight out of the water and soon, it was rolled onto the platform. 

At the arrival of Merry and Mr. Grubbs at the pier, and Frodo now wading to it, Grandma Bolgers excused herself to flap her fingers at her fat neck and describe her horror to the nearest person who asked if she was all right. 

Sam's feet pounded on the hollow wood as he rushed over. He draped a blanket over the wet body. The doctor was squinting through round spectacles at the whitened girl's face by the time Sam and Merry each offered a hand to help Frodo climb out of the water.

Sam wrapped the second blanket around Frodo's shoulders instead.

"Is she dead?" Merry asked, wincing tenderly down at the frozen girl's face. The girl was a Hobbit, obvious by her size, but she wasn't one anyone recognized. 

The doctor pealed away enough black knots of hair so his wrinkled fingers could fondle her neck for a moment, and then he lowered to his hands and knees to listen to her nose. "She's alive." 

The silent crowd of now thirty or more breathed with shock and relief. They already started developing whispered stories of ill-intent and witchcraft to make this miracle possible.

The doctor sat up again and motioned for the closest two people he saw: Merry and Frodo. "Warm her hands up with your hands. See if there's any frostbite." He flicked back to Sam and Mister Grubbs. "And her feet."

All four of them moved down to their knees to follow the order as the doctor continued to fret at the girl's face. Frodo pulled her hand out and pressed her fingers between his palms. He caught something on her face. 

"Dear lord, her feet are so tiny," Sam said strangely.

Frodo reached over and pushed the wet strands of hair away. "Her ears are round."

Merry was blowing into his hands to warm one of hers. "Maybe she's  mankin."

Sam nodded at him. "She'd be no older than seven years to be our size." He held firm fingers around tiny, hairless feet. 

Frodo's eyes fell upon the seam-splitting, wet bodice on the girl's chest. He brows wrinkled in all strange directions. "I don't think she's a child, Sam." 

Merry's eyes landed on the swells under the bark-colored wool. "I'm glad you noticed, Frodo," he grinned, "I was beginning to wonder about you."

Frodo shifted a glare to Merry.

The doctor crawled to his feet. "We must get her inside where it's warm." He pointed at Frodo. "You have a spare bed Bag End."

Frodo looked up at the standing doctor with wariness in his eye. "Why my house?"

Grandma Bolgers leaned out to him with a whine in her cockney wail. "You're the only one that lives alone. . .  the only one with funds to spare."

He did have a spare bed, but he didn't necessarily have funds to spare, not as much as everyone thought. He'd already relieved the shepherd and fallowed the cornfield because he couldn't afford to pay the crew any longer. The only one that still served Bag End was Sam, but Frodo refused to lay him off. 

With the exception of the young, redheaded family, Bagshot Row was empty.  The only produce coming out of the ten acres were vegetables -- and then it was more often eaten than sold. Bag End was not the mansion of its fame. There was no fortune hiding in the corners. There were no spoils of war or King's Rewards. . . . And it would take generations before Hobbiton believed that Frodo was going broke.

However, he could not deny the truth of the spare bed. Pippin had stayed over a few days ago, and the pad and sheets still graced a low cupboard in the back room, right next to the door. Frodo straightened out Pippin's effort to tie them in knots while his house with a dozen people. Many were working in concert to manage the body to the back room but by order of the doctor, the body was put on the floor first. 

"Take her clothes off," the old man commanded lightly.

The only occupants so far in the room, Frodo, Sam and Merry paused on their feet with questioning glances of propriety and a hint of blushes they were no longer in the habit of sporting.

Sam's eyelids stuttered for him. "Pardon me?"

"Get these wet clothes off of her," the doctor snapped as he dug through his bag.

Merry looked up to the other two and shrugged, "I'll do it."

Grandma Bolgers and Rosie were pushing through from the hall and Frodo looked eagerly back to pass the embarrassing chore off to the ladies. Merry was already lowering to one knee to follow through but Sam grabbed him by the back of his collar and pulled him back to his feet. Rosie was already herding the men out of the room and Grandma Bolgers looked down at the face from her feet to ask the busy doctor, "Who is she?"

The gentlemen stepped around the knotted tree and found a half a dozen people in the entryway. Frodo shooed everyone off, even from his front porch, and promised a full report by evening. As he did this however, Pippin slipped into the house by his shoulder with unasked and unanswered permission.

Frodo shut the door and thumped against it with his back. Merry was already updating Pippin on all the excitement.

Pippin's turned to Frodo with his brows lifted into his forehead. "It's a miracle."

Frodo's brow flickered. "What's a miracle?"

Pippin's scant surprise didn't fade into the grin of a quip until the very end. "There's a naked woman in Frodo's house."

Frodo thumped his head back on the door again to grin. Merry giggled and Sam smiled full beam.

Rosie pushed aside the woolen curtain that was more a heat insulator that it ever was meant to be a door. "Come in now. Put her on the bed for us."

The quartet stepped gingerly into the back room to find the victim naked but covered to her neck with the blanket. They got her into the bed and stepped back so the doctor could give a list of instructions. Rosie tended to the thick wet dress and under things that had been peeled from her skin and disappeared to add them to her own laundry pile. Sam took a short list of things to fetch for the doctor and Merry excused himself as he was expected elsewhere. Frodo and Pippin were left to listen to the doctor say a lot of nothing about the state of their patient. 

"Who is she?" Pippin asked, just now recognizing the face as an unknown.

"I don't know, Pippin." Frodo muttered, distracted by the methods in doctor's examination.

The doctor dropped the worried scowl over her face.

"Start a smoldering fire." The doctor ordered as he prepared to leave. "Cover the window. Keep it warm and stuffy in this room until she wakes up."

Frodo listened and nodded to the instructions dutifully. 

"I can't find any signs of water in her chest, but check often that she is still breathing. If she stops, push on her chest every long moment, and send someone for my wife. She'll know what to do." The doctor sighed. "I have to go into Whitfurrows for medicines today. I'll come to call as soon as I return this evening."

Frodo nodded. 

"What of her identity?" Pippin asked.

The doctor looked at the pale, sleeping face and shook his head in bewilderment. "You ask her when she revives, I suppose."

Frodo was preparing the fireplace and blanketing the single window before the front door closed behind the doctor. Pippin sat near her head to wipe away the knotted hair from white face. Sam returned momentarily with a sack full of stuff: a tuft of rabbit fur,  an ounce of special tea, and lady's sleeping garment that Frodo incidentally had no intentions of dressing on her himself. 

The sack was emptied and Sam was off again to tend to his family, but offered aid when called upon. 

Pippin paused before leaving. "Is she. . . " he motioned to the body, his eyes turned warily to Frodo, "clad under that?"

Frodo's eyebrows lifted enough to pull a grin out of his mouth and scold the other's tacit request. "Pip."

Peregrin smirked with a adolescent spark in his eye. "Just one peek?"

"I remind you you're spoken for."

Pippin pressed his mouth and moved to leave. "Naw, she's still not talking to me." He stepped backwards to the exit. "I'm about to give up."

Frodo glanced over his shoulder at him. "Give her a few more days. I hear ladies don't take kindly to men in drunken follies, but they do get over it after a while."

"Or so you hear," Pippin pointed out.

Frodo agreed wisely that this was all rumor to him, "Or so I hear."

Pippin stepped over to Frodo, shoulder to shoulder, and looked across the room at the girl. "Your assessment was correct. I am spoken for. But you aren't." He flicked a chin and a grin. "I'm going to leave you in this big house alone with a naked girl who is as unconscious as beached deadwood." He leaned in to whisper evilly. "No one will know."

"I will do nothing of the sort," was Frodo's knee-jerk reaction, but with the exit of Pippin, the room was dark and silent. Frodo looked at the sleeping face from across the back room and wondered what she looked like from the neck down. It was fresh morning, but the room was toasted and closed up to feel like the retreat from a winter's night. She lay there as still as a stagnant pond. No one would know.

Frodo shook the inappropriate thought form his head. He lit a lamp to hang in the nearest corner and felt out the source of a draft so he could stuff the air leak with a chewed wad of paper into the crack. The rest of the fresh air came through the west smial and exited through the chimney of the fire. 

The chicken coop could wait. Frodo fetched a mug of fresh water and scooted a chair next to his sleeping visitor. He dabbed the fur tuft in the water and squinted as he fumbled through the best way to paint a drop onto her cold lips. She didn't flicker. Her lips didn't twitch or rub for the drop but somehow Frodo could sense that the young woman's mind was in there, somewhere, trying to escape. 

He knew how that felt. 

"I can only put the water on your mouth. You're the one that has to wake up drink it."

He set the mug aside and touched her cheek with the back of his fingers. She was still cold; walking hours in the snow kind of cold. So, Frodo fetched an old shirt of his to wrap it around her head and chin, blanketing her forehead and cheeks without suffocating her ability to breathe.

And on it went. He spent much of the day at her bedside and lazily remembered visions of Smeagol and Sam and bogs and orcs. Eventually, he would shake himself out of it and used the time to think up new, but little ideas about how to bring her back to health, or make her more comfortable, or just wake her up. On occasion, he spoke to her as if she were awake to hear it, just in case a voice aimed in her direction would coax her to consciousness. Throughout the day, in lumps at times, townsfolk came to call and ask the same sampling of questions about the incident and offer equally ridiculous possibilities about who she was and where she'd come from. When their need for babble and curiosity had been slaked, they would excuse themselves for the sake of chores, or family, or hunger and be off again.

Long after supper had swept everyone away again, Pippin, Sam and Merry included, the doctor returned with mumbled instructions and flasks of a foul smelling elixir. Then the doctor shuffled sleepily off. Frodo tucked her in for the night and slipped between his own sheets in the big master bedroom on the opposite side of the house. He hoped it wouldn't be long before she recovered and left. It was difficult to concentrate knowing someone was back there. 

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**_Devious Peek of the Goods_**

The girl was slow to rouse. Over the next several days, with donations of food and supply from several other families, aid from his friends and neighbors, and under the occasionally visiting eye of the doctor, the girl showed scant signs of recovery – barely enough for everyone to note a token of improvement just as her recovery seemed to stagnate.

Within a week, the color had returned to her face, she occasionally licked for the drop of water, and twice had pulled in a deep, sleepy sigh. Rose had washed her straight hair and braided it to lay untangled over her shoulder. The next day, the ladies from the sewing circle gathered to dress the woman in a long nightgown. The girl was looking better and better and Frodo's chores were delayed later and later. 

Staying by her side rapidly became a tremendous waste of time. He wasted it by rereading a book he'd already read. Even if he did get to work, the most urgent of tasks was building a new chicken coop. 

_A chicken coop. Is that what it's come to?_

Frodo's life was simple now, _too_ simple, unflavored stale bread kind of simple. And yet he had grown a stomach-grinding aversion to adventure. As soon as he caught himself thinking like that, he'd redirect his attentions to take care of the girl. 

He spoke to her as he moved about. Soon it became a habit, and after a few days, he hardly noticed how ridiculous it was to speak to a sleeping creature. "Good morning, miss," he would say as he entered. "Could I interest you in a mug of tea," he'd try, just to see if she'd answer. "My chickens are starting to get jealous of my attention over you," he'd comment aloud. "Wake up, my lady. You're likely to be missed at home."

She was the size of a Hobbit but not the shape. Were she a man-child, she would be hardly a girl, but her face and . . .  other parts were obviously more grownup than that. But if she _were_ a Hobbit, she was looked to be the same age as Frodo. Her hair was thick chestnut like the tail of a shiny horse. Hobbit heads were full of curls. She had small round ears. Hobbits had larger, pointed ears. She had small, smooth feet. Hobbits, at least all the ones around here, did not. She didn't even have the facial features of your average Hobbit. Her face was longer instead of rounded. Her brows arched with pleasantry, her pale, rose-colored lips fell plump against each other to form a petite mouth. She was quiet a pretty thing for a thing that wasn't a Hobbit. However, be she Hobbit or man kin, there certainly was a husband somewhere fretting over her disappearance, and so Frodo made a point to treat her accordingly.

When her cheeks were warm to the touch and pink with renewing life, Frodo felt safe to uncover the window and let some daylight in too. The nightgown was baggy around her neck and her arms had been pulled out of the covers to lay comfortably at her sides. The warming yellow beams fell across her face to beckon her awake again and Frodo sat at her bedside to serve up another droplet of water. 

He painted her lips with the moist tuft of rabbit fur and dunked it into the cup for another dose.

Rosy lips curled in to be sucked dry and fell back out again.

Frodo caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. He paused a long moment and lifted a brow. "Would you like some more?"

She lay still.

"You have to ask for it," he coaxed.

Nothing.

He shrugged with only a tilt of his head and prepped the brush again. "Very well, I'll do it anyway." He dabbed another drop on her lips but wasn't retrieved, and so it dribbled down the side of her mouth.

"Now look what you made me do." He scoffed without concern and dabbed a clean napkin on her cheek to clean it up. 

"What I wouldn't give to trade places with you." He said aloud. "A quiet mind. . .  A peaceful sleep." He put the mug on the end table and folded the napkin. "Of course, it hasn't been so bad lately." He grinned at her motionless expression as if he were scolding her, but liking it nonetheless, "You're distracting me from my horrors."

Frodo's sapphire eyes widened a touch, and his mouth fell slack with a surprising thought. "You've distracted me." He thought back on the last week to count out the days since his last nightmare, his last midnight smoke, his last daylight frown. . .  and his eyes flicked back to her again. "On second thought . . .  don't wake up." 

A smiled blossomed across his mouth at the beautiful revelation. The memories were fading. A presence in this big, Bilbo Baggins house, even just a sleeping stranger, was enough to start shoving the story into the past. And he selfishly wanted her to stay asleep as long as she could just to reap the full benefit from her visit.

He didn't know her story and probably would never hear the whole of it anyway. As soon as she awoke, (whenever that would be) she would be hustling home within a day and out of his life for, probably, ever, but right now Frodo was appreciative of her unintended gift. Full of thankfulness, he leaned over to kiss her on the forehead.

The peck was quick and light, but stopped before he moved away again. His breath snagged in his throat when he looked at her up close. She had plump, moist lips and dark lashes resting gently on her cheeks. Out of some hidden instinct, some unconscious draw to do so, he tucked in his face and kissed her lips as well. 

She didn't move.

Gentle and nervous, he hovered there for a long moment, watching her expression remain as still as a stone. His sights dribble down to her naked collarbone and the loose collar of the white cotton nightgown. 

Nobody will know.

Frodo sucked in his lower lip and lifted his fingers to pinch the fabric without touching her skin. He checked for movement, carefully lifted it, tucked his face closer to hers so he could catch a good angle. The dangling ends of his dark curls brushed against her cheek, but Frodo didn't know. His eyes were narrowed with new wisdom and pride that he was right all along. "That's what I thought they looked like."

The woman pulled in a deep, sleepy sigh, and scared the wits out of Frodo. Only the third since she'd was recovered from the river over a week earlier. He sat up quickly. His mouth flickered with uncertainty, his eyes danced for ideas on the bookshelf or fireplace until they landed on what he had been reading. His hands snatched the book and his feet tiptoed as fast as they could to leave the room. 

She inhaled through her nose and mumbled it back out, speaking unintelligibly until the last three words came clear. "Don't leave me." 

He had only gotten to the curtain door when his movement froze.

Frodo turned silently and saw her mouth open. Her eye lids had wrinkled as if weakly fighting the images in a dream. On alert, he stepped back to her to try to talk through the veil of unconsciousness that had momentarily parted. "Hello?. . .  Miss?. . . "

Frodo blinked widened eyes before stepping back to her bedside. He stepped over and put down the book. "Nobody's leaving you." He pressed his mouth with guilt and reached (from a distance) to pull the blanket back over her chest. 

She shuffled her whole body for the first time, snuggling deeper into the blanket as if there had been a draft across her neck.

Frodo jumped back again. His hand tucked away as if she had tried to bite it. 

She stirred again. Her face soured at a bitter taste. 

Frodo sat down on the chair and set his elbows on his knees. He still bent over and tilted his head so he could watch for movements in her face. "Do you have any aches?"

She hummed an incoherent answer.

He started to grin at the solid signs of life. "Would you like some water?"

"Mm," she said and swallowed.

He grabbed the mug and sat on the edge of the bed. He painted a drop of water across her lower lip.

A pink tongue slipped out to lick the liquid from her lips. This time, it was more than a whisper. "Mm-thankyou."

His eyes were sparkling like sapphires that she was finally waking up. "What's your name?" 

She licked her lips again and rolled to her back. She mumbled a little before the word came clear. "Lauren."

"Ah. Lauren." He enjoyed the sound of it. "What's your last name, Lauren? Whom shall I call for you?"

Her mouth opened but she didn't answer him right away. Instead, she was snagged with a new question. "Who'ryou?"

Frodo put the mug down and set a palm on his knee. "Lauren? Wake up just enough to tell me your husband's name."

Her eyelids rippled. Her lashes fluttered open with perplexity weakly rippling her brow. Here eyes were deep brown and unfocused. "Husband?"

Frodo smiled wide that she looked directly at him. "Father or mother perhaps. What is your family name?"

A hand rose out of the blankets. She gently lay a palm across her left temple and looked at Frodo like he was deliberately trying to confuse her. She glared at him like she was not awake enough for such serious questioning and offended that he would assume as much.

Frodo flicked a half-grin. "Perhaps I should let you think on it a bit."

Her eyes looked at him with fear and confusion.

Frodo reached for the mug. "Would you like to try a whole sip?"

She didn't answer that. Her consciousness was still groping through the haze for something to grasp on to. Her hand moved from her forehead to reach for his elbow. 

Charmed but confused, Frodo touched her fingers so she could accept his presence. "I'm looking after you until your well."

With the innocence of a small girl, big eyes turned up to him again. "You are?"

He nodded and said it rather plainly. "You're safe now. I'll explain things when you're feeling better."

Her mouth touched into a smile for a split second and her eyes drifted closed. She drifted back to sleep as he watched her, but this time it was a real sleep, complete with dreaming eyelids and deep, snoozing breaths. 

Frodo's eyes had a new light in them. A hint of a smile touched his mouth. It wasn't her; it was that she was recovering. It was a relief to know he could cradle a life with greater success than he inadvertently caused death while he was trying to save it. 

Perhaps there was hope for him after all.

He gave her another kiss of friendship for that, but left it on her forehead where it belonged and closed up the house so he could go to bed too.

~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~

**_What's a Hobbit?_**

It felt like morning when Frodo opened his eyes. It was a morning brisk, green, and full of choices. It was the first morning that felt like morning in a long time. The first morning he woke up before the rooster strutted loudly on his prowl. There was no invisible weight on his chest, no subconscious memories of nightmares he could or could not recall, no puffy eyes from a tossed sleep. This morning felt like a new day, and Frodo didn't get many of those. 

He didn't realize why at first, and he never really grasped the reason, save for the stranger in his care was going to be all right. He dressed in shin-length trousers and snapped suspenders over his work shirt before finding a new sun through his kitchen window shining onto the big oak tree across the road. He started a cooking fire and put on water to boil, then grabbed the last bit of cheese to nibble as breakfast in the back room.

Before he'd even reached the chair to pull to her bedside, he could see the slits of her eyes open to him. "Good morning, Miss Lauren," he greeted as he sat down. He lowered his elbows to his knees and cocked his head so he could look her look her in the eye. "Could I interest you in a cup of foul smelling but medicinally enhanced tea?"

She grinned sleepily and opened her eyes to him, "What will this medicinal enhancement heal?"

Frodo smiled full at such a conscious response. "I haven't the faintest idea."

Her eyes remained on his as if soaking up his friendly demeanor. "I'd love some." 

He lifted from his chair. "The doctor will be please to find you are such an obedient patient." The pot was starting to boil when Frodo saw Sam come through the front gate. He waved him to come in.

"My friend, spring has arrived." Sam smiled. "Our spinach is ready for the pickings. You want me to collect a bundle for Elevensies?"

Frodo smiled at him as he passed. How was it that Sam could find such delight in ripe spinach? "I'll let it ripen some more, but thank you, Sam."

Sam followed him into the back room. "She rolled over," he said with mild delight.

Lauren's eyes slowly opened to Sam.

"What do you know? She's awake!"

Frodo put the mugs down and shot him a smile as if were his victory alone. "Her name is Lauren." He turned to help her sit up for her tea and gentled his voice. "Lauren, this is my friend, Sam." His forearm locked with hers and, as an instant team, they both worked to pull her to sit up. Frodo instantly stuffed two pillows behind her back before she fell back again. It wasn't much, but she was vertical enough to sip her tea.

"Hello Sam," she smiled tiredly at the red head at the foot of her bed while Frodo fussed over her backrest. 

Sam was impressed that she was alive and talking. "Hello there. How are you feeling?"

"A bit confused," she confessed. "Would you mind telling me the name of your friend?"

Bushy red brows flickered, "What friend?"

She lifted her hand by the elbow and pointed back to the man that was too busy caring for her to introduce himself. 

"Oh," Sam smiled at Frodo, then nodded politely to her. "That would be Mister Frodo Baggins." He whispered to her as if it were a secret, "He's not accustomed to visitors these days."

Frodo only glanced at him as he turned to fetch her mug. 

"So I gathered," she teased quietly, but by now, she was looking Frodo in the face even though he was trying to ignore the topic and coax her to sip the tea.

One white hand emerged from the blankets. Thin fingers touched lightly on the back of his hand to help guide the mug to her lips. She sipped gingerly, but winced as soon as she tasted it. 

Sam grimaced at the poor thing's response to the nasty tea. It even smelled bad. Frodo glanced over his shoulder at him. "Would you mind informing the doctor of her recovery? Perhaps she doesn't have to drink the tea after all."

"Please?" She begged.

"Straight away," Sam stepped out of the room to comply.

Frodo turned back to her with gentle authority. "In the mean time. . . " he lifted the mug again.

She pushed out a pout, but touched his hand again for another obedient sip of the stuff. Although she tried not to wince this time, it was clear that the taste was awful. Frodo set it aside until he received word from the doctor.

Lauren rested limply against the pillows but her eyes and mouth were animated enough. "Frodo." 

It took looking at her in the eye to realize she was just sounding out his name; trying it on for size. 

Frodo took a sip from his own tea and glanced from under his brows. "Yes." 

It seemed to take her a moment to decide this. "I don't remember you."

Perplexed, Frodo shook his head. "We've never met."

"You rescued me?" Something about him wasn't making sense.

"It was a group effort to remove you from harm's way," he admitted, "but I had the spare bed and ample time to nurse you to back to health." In other words, he tried to say, it was hardly personal.

"You were talking to me." This she was sure of.

He tucked in his lower lip momentarily. "I thought it might coax you awake."

She took this in a long minute, considering all the information she knew so far, but studied Frodo with suspicion the entire time.

He was starting to feel as though his moment of curiosity had been caught.

Instead, she smiled at him. "Thank you." 

Frodo smiled out a sigh and gave her a bow with his head, "Your welcome."

She took that in too, looking him in the eyes as if she were trying to read intent and personality out of them, but her attentions soon turned to the thick blanket that covered her for a week. "I'm hot." She winced, trying to push it off of her but didn't have the strength to get very far. "May I—" She never got the question out because Frodo had already stepped to her aid. She muttered another word of appreciation and limply fell back again. The blanket was rolled to fit comfortably between her and the wall beside her. In the end, she smoothed the sleeping garment over her lap and stretched out her legs as if she were waking them up too. 

Frodo was already starting to sit down again when he saw her toes sneak out of the long nightgown. Her feet were small and naked, her ears were round, her hair was straight. Laws of science tumbled ass over teakettle in Frodo's brain. "You're not Hobbit, are you?" What an effort in futility! The first time he successfully peeks down a woman's blouse and she wasn't even the same darn species!

She rubbed an eye and smiled strangely at him as if it were a joke of some kind. "What's a Hobbit?"

Frodo's eyes widened, his mouth opened, and both froze there in alarm and bewilderment of how to answer that question.

Sam and the doctor arrived, saving him from the turmoil, only to have the same reminder peep from their mouths as well. At least Frodo wasn't alone to form an answer, nor wonder why it was asked in the first place.

The doctor stepped to the bed and brushed his hand over a small foot to give it a good look over. "Do you have tonsils?"

Lauren's expression flickered at the doctor. The strangeness of these questions only clarified how many she didn't have answers to.

The doctor took her face with a single hand, "Open your mouth." He peered down her throat and Lauren glanced at Frodo with fear growing in her eyes. 

"No. No tonsils." The doctor sat down on the bed and leaned over. "I'm going to listen to your chest a moment." The old, wrinkling man sat on her bed and put the side of his head on her breasts.

Lauren gasped and tried to slink away from him.

Sam angled his head to watch the doctor. 

The old man curled his nose and squinted with aged curiosity and strain. 

Frodo glanced at her face again. Lauren was beginning to feel violated by this and he instinctively moved to the head of the bed to sat by her shoulder and ease her discomfort. "Well?"

The doctor looked at Frodo over the rim of his spectacles. "She's not a whole Hobbit. She's a half Hobbit, but she's more Mangirl than Hobbit." The doctor shrugged it off. "Odd."

Sam's face twisted. "I didn't know there was such a thing as a half Hobbit."

Lauren tilted her head to look up worriedly at Frodo as if she already forgot the answer. "What is a Hobbit?"

Frodo ignored her question for the moment and took her hand to calm her down, but his eyes were drilling into the doctor. "Never mind what she is. Is she all right?"

The doctor took a peak at the medicinal tea and took a whiff as he answered Frodo. "She'll be fine. She needs her strength back is all. Feed her small nibbles at first, increase only as much as she can handle without tossing it up." He turned again; actually speak to the patient for the first time. "You're muscles have watered. Sit up as much as you can, move your feet about." He motioned as if she should have understood this already, "Work your body until the muscles become solid again." He put down the tea and collecting his things. "And don't feed her any of the tea. It's gone bad."

Lauren rolled her eyes and sighed away her discontent of the doctor. 

The doctor shuffled out of the room. "She should be well enough to travel in a week or two."

"Is that all you can do?" Sam's hands had lifted from his sides. "The woman was fished from a frozen pond!"

The doctor waved it off as he left. "She'll live through it. Meanwhile I have a poppit with a suspicious fever waiting for me."

Sam turned back to them with a flat mouth and a shrug. "I guess we're on our own."

Frodo sat at the head of the bed, almost behind her, and twisted his mouth with thought at what to do next. Lauren weakly reached back for his hand, the only part she could really see, and crooned backwards to try to look at him. "Frodo?"

Frodo sat up to give her his attention. "Yes, m'lady."

She wiggled his wrist and pleaded weakly. "Tell me what a Hobbit is."

"I'm a Hobbit," he said. "Sam is a Hobbit. The doctor is a Hobbit. Every one here is a Hobbit, but in other places there are Elves and Men and Dwarves and Trolls and so forth." He rubbed his lips, "It's odd that this is news to you."

"How can you tell the difference," she asked. "Between them, I mean."

Frodo motioned with his chin. "You see your feet? How small and clean they are?"

She didn't let go of his hand, but she looked curiously as her stretching toes. "Yes."

Frodo lifted a leg to the bed and flopped his foot at her side.

"Good lord!" She exclaimed, albeit with weak air. She let go of his hand and tried to scoot herself to sit up a little. Now, almost resting against the front of his shoulder, she glanced back again. "You know there are razors and lotions that will help with that sort of thing."

Frodo's eyes brightened despite his stiff glare at her. "There is nothing wrong my feet."

Her mouth rippled into a giggle. "Are you kidding? You could grow potatoes in there."

"Potatoes? No." Frodo tilted his head thoughtfully. "Spinach perhaps, but not potatoes."

Sam's brows were lifted into his forehead. He watched the two characters banter on, but he didn't really hear it. What he heard was the smile in Frodo's voice. What he saw was the mild glitter in Frodo's eyes, and the fact that the lonely Hobbit hadn't moved away from his patient's bedside where he had intended only to reassure her over the doctor's examination. 

He was glad to see Frodo in a happy mood, but he didn't want encourage anything until he was sure this woman wasn't some miscreant trying to foil Frodo for his rumored riches. He excused himself for chores in the garden and pondered the issue during his quiet time with the shrubs.

~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~

**_Sam Hogs Girls_**

Frodo was delighted to have her awake. After talking to a stone for a week, almost to the point of feeling like he'd gone mad, it was refreshing to have an animated being respond. He kept nibbles of cheese and bread by the bed for her to take as she pleased and sat in the chair at her bedside to engage in as much conversation as she had energy for. 

In two days, she was still so weak that she had to ask Frodo to carry her to the outhouse. Frodo hushed the blush in her cheeks by assuring that the requirement was a good sign of her health. He enjoyed the thought of being needed again and the good mood radiated from him as he fulfilled her request. 

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders to carry as much weight as she could, and Frodo carried her out the back door and down the grassy hillside towards Sam's place. The walk was short enough to slyly avoid talk without discomfort, but too long to avoid a glance at the close quarters. 

When she caught his eye, she ducked quickly away.  

Frodo liked it. He probably would have winked at her had she not turned her gaze away. He kept it completely proper though. Pausing only long enough to ensure she had her balance, he closed the door for her, and stepped away. He sat down on the hillside and stared at the tiny blue flowers that polka dotted the tall grass in front of his eyes.

It wasn't long before he had a prettier visitor on the side of the hill, but Frodo had already fallen in love with this one. She came complete with strawberry locks, rosy little chipmunk cheeks, and downy white innocence in her smile. She bumbled up the hill with dimples in her fat little knees and the bushy fringe of a tiny little dress. 

She wasn't speaking yet, but recognition sparkled like diamonds in her giant baby eyes. She used hands and feet to climb up the hill to him, and was short enough that she looked like looming blue flowers would swallow her at any moment. 

The truth was, she wasn't trying to get to Frodo so much as she was trying to escape the ever-reaching clutches of her mother. 

"Elanor?!"

"You're mummy's looking for you." Frodo said to the baby. She responded only by climbing to his side and plopping down in the grass next to him, at which point she couldn't see, or been seen, over the grass anymore.

Rose came out of the back of her tree-shaded yard and found Frodo sitting not too far from the outhouse.

Frodo lifted an arm and pointed down to the head that was next to him. 

Elanor tucked behind Frodo's elbow and giggled madly.

It was a comedy how Elanor scrambled to her feet and tried to hide behind Frodo while Rose marched up and tried to act quick enough to catch her. The young mother worked so hard to be angry, but Elanor was cute, and the baby knew it. All the while, Frodo sat on the side of the hill, resting his elbows on his knees and turning his eyes this way and that to watch the show down between Sam's wife and Sam's baby daughter. 

Sam was present soon enough and climbing up the hill like a lumbering giant to 'Fe Fi Fo Fum' at Frodo. "There you go! Stealing my women again. One should be enough for you."

"Hush that talk." Frodo said quickly and quietly. "Now that she's awake, rumors will spread like a fever."

At daddy's approach, Rose finally caught the baby by surprise. Skirts large and small ruffled as Elanor tried to get away, belly laughing as she struggled, and Rose tried to keep her on her hip. Sam tucked behind Rosie's shoulder and coaxed Elanor on with sparkly eyes at his daughter. 

No sound is as clear and beautiful as a baby's belly laugh.

As he watched them, Frodo grew quiet and sullen again. Sam got what he wanted. Frodo was glad for that, but the victory was bittersweet at best. He looked over the pale blue skies and melting pockets of snow over the green Shire, fighting off echoes and whispers again.

Twenty feet away, Lauren came out of the outhouse and tried to use the wall to aid her balance. Frodo climbed to his feet and left the Gamgees to bond on the hillside. He picked up Lauren in both arms and let the woman get a grip to carry much of her own weight. 

Lauren smiled sweetly over his shoulder as he carried her up the hill again. The daddy pretended to be a monster, growling as he chased a giggly little girl and the mommy pretended to protect her as the three moved back down the hill to a fenced yard hiding under a thicket of trees.

"They're so happy," Lauren whispered.

"As it should be," Frodo said as he pushed the door open with his shoulder. He put her down to sit on the side of the bed in the back room. "Sam deserves it."

Frodo returned to his full height and brushed his hands off to return to his duties in another room, but Lauren's curious voice gave him pause. "Don't you?"

Frodo glanced back to address her patiently, "'Don't I' what?"

"Deserve it?"

Frodo thought on the question. The first answer that came to mind was, 'No, not really.' He wasn't even supposed to live through it. This was just borrowed time. On the other hand, after all he went through to find victory at the end, as bittersweet as it was, he felt he deserved it. 

Frodo had saved the world after all. 

It all sounded so simple when you put it that way. 

But it wasn't simple. 

It wasn't even explainable. 

"It's complicated," he muttered sadly and shuffled out of the room. 

~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~

**_An Insulting Honor_**

This time last year, Frodo was still holed up with winter's depression and no one gave him any grief about not showing up, but this year it was agreed, without Frodo's input, and largely without Sam's either, that Rose would tend to Lauren so Frodo could go into the fields for the first plow day of the planting season.

_Not_ going was an honor that boys dreamt about. Once a man had served enough duty, carried enough aches on his body and sadness in his eyes, no one expected him out for the days of hard labor. But as boys, they always joked about faking an old rugby injury so they could sit and smoke and yell at everybody else to "Get back to work!"

The truly odd part was that none such honor was given to a Hobbit at such a young age as Frodo. Two whole generations ahead of him were still working 'til their backs were wet with sweat between overcast skies and muddy plains. It was a day none truly looked forward to, but Frodo never had a care to argue Rosie's decision about it.

The day felt slow and fuzzy like a boring dream. At the crack of dawn, there were four plows already rigged up. Shetland ponies neighed with annoyance and ruffled their backs and heads. Puffs of cloud came out of the mouths of Hobbits and the noses of oxen. The overcast sky was still ash dark with dawn and the fallowed field was covered in a bright green fur of winter grass. It was the only thing that looked nice. It was too bad they were going to plow it up.

Sam wrapped his fingers around the bridal of the horse and petted her jaw as he waited for the plow rider to climb to his perch. Merry asked about Lauren,w ith concern she wasn't being tended. The mud was cool on his feet and his cheeks rouged up from the wind blowing across the field. Frodo stepped in behind Sam to flank the plow and crush clumps as they were formed, and this particular team was nearly ready to go when the master of another plow called out above the still waking men. 

"Frodo Baggins!" Willows Barthy stood on the handles of his plow and rose to his full height so he could get Frodo's attention from the distance. 

Frodo stepped out from behind his own plow to show his face. 

Willows Barthy said something to his plow team, clearly realizing that the report was right – Frodo really was out with them today. He called out and waved his whole arm to shoo Frodo off. "Go home, Baggins! You've earned your keep!"

Sam stretched his eyes over the horse's neck to see Willows Barthy, then glanced back to his freind. Frodo soaked up the meaning behind his Sam's shrug. What the Barthy said was true. If not for Frodo and his nightmare with the Ring there would be no free Hobbits left to plow the field, nor a field to plow, for that matter. 

But it didn't feel right being given an elderly-like honor from a man twice his age. It didn't feel right to take the day off and leave Sam, Merry and Pippin working. Many of the others stopped too, nodding in agreement and tossing their heads. "It's okay, Frodo! You can go!"

Frodo didn't realize how much of an insult the 'honor' really was. He understood now why those elderly fools that stayed home were far more crabby than the one's that worked hard all day. He felt his face reddening with anger even if it was already reddened by the breeze, but he paused to think before responding so rudely toward an elder.

"It's all right, Frodo!" Willows Barthy called out. "You can be done!"

Frodo black brows tucked in, his shoulders tossed up to yell back with a growl not customarily heard from this particular Hobbit. "MAYBE I DON'T WANT TO BE DONE?!"

Willows Barthy was far away enough that the only thing Frodo could truly make out was his locked knees, proud posture, and full smile. The old man waved him off like he was stupid for not taking the opportunity but silently beaming about Frodo's response. He wasn't the only who would be using the example on his boy later. And as soon as Willows Barthy was done about it, so was everyone else. All the men moved back to their own business.

The corners of Sam's mouth curled up a moment until Frodo flicked a face of boldness and pride about the small victory. Sam let out a short laugh and the plow master whistled the team forward.

Frodo quickly realized why Rosie had ordered him out. He knew every face and he knew every face's name. His elders spoke with the same stiff orders as they always had and Frodo's peers had the same dirty faces and muddy feet. Men climbed to the handlebars of the plows and reminded the oxen who was in charge. Old voices babbled orders to move the horses along the morning seemed to soak up half their commands voices before they could get away. The youngers walked aside every plow, aiming the bridal, breaking up mud clumps and tossing rocks off the field. 

It was a bleak day and hard labor, and it felt odd to Frodo being back in the middle of such an old tradition he'd missed for only two years, but it was a good feeling. 

There was a constant turnover of teen-aged contender's for the longest rock throw, even though there was never any organized competition to cling to. There was always a song or two they shared that the ladies (hopefully) would never hear. There was the mumbled gossip shared amongst each plow crew as they worked, but mostly it was about the disgusting habits of farm animals and tales of too much ale. It didn't happen this day, but it wasn't uncommon for a couple of young bucks to tumble into a mud-strewn fistfight. And the language got increasingly foul as the sun crawled higher in the sky. 

"Y'know Frodo," Pippin appeared out of nowhere already wrapping his arm around Frodo's shoulders. "As your oldest and truest friend, I would be honored to take that post for you so I could sit on my ars all day and just look after everybody else's women."

Frodo sung lightly as he pushed off Pippin by the shoulder. "Put it away."

Merry half-tackled Pippin and knocked him away from Frodo, but then nobody really walked straight when the mud wakes from the plow were constantly toppling onto their feet anyway.

"What do you think, Sam? Aren't I perfect for the job?" Pippin giggled as he pushed Merry the other direction, just to see if he could make the other fall into the mud. "How many d'you think I could satisfy at once?"

Sam couldn't completely turn around because he was still guiding the pony, but the tone in his voice was clear enough. "You stay away from my woman, Pippin, or you're carcass is going to be warming the tile in front of my fireplace."

Nowadays, nobody doubted that Sam would do it, but nobody but Pippin tried to talk to Sam like that either. Pippin was just trying to find stuff to giggle about after all. It was his way of recovering. 

Pippin tried to lumber away with long legged march on a column that was already plowed and Merry tackled him from behind until both faces went splat into the mud. Sam's face blossomed laughter and Frodo enjoyed a bit of a chuckle. The plow kept on and the blackened pair was left behind. 

Frodo thought about it all as he stomped mindlessly down on mud chunks just as they were being formed. Pippin remained a jokester, but now he often aplified it with liquor. That's how he recovered. Frodo glanced at the bulky Hobbit's back in front of him. Sam fell in love. Rosie healed all of his haunting wounds, and Elanor erased most of the invisible scars. Merry, well, the jury was still out on that one. Frodo glanced back to find him still laughing as he scraped mud out of his eyes. Merry was going to be okay even if hadn't settled in yet. Don't get him in a fight though. One tumbler in Bree last summer showed the Shire's neighbors that angry Hobbits didn't fall down so easily.

Yes. Sam, Pippin and Merry would be all right. Time proved that. But Frodo wanted his turn too. 

His eyes went empty again. The smile fell away again. Smeagol's squeaky voice morphed into a growling again. And his shoulder started to hurt. . . .

~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~

**_Specters in Bed_**

The bog smelled horrible. There were dead faces in the water. In the distance, Sam barked angrily as Smeagol to shut up. And the voices whispered his name. . . .

"Frodo?" Smeagol warned him, but he spoke with a softer voice. Smeagol grabbed him by the front collar to pull him from rotting water. 

Lauren shook him again. "My lord. Wake up." Her whisper was frightened and her grip weak on his nightgown's collar. "Please wake up."

Frodo winced and shuffled, but didn't wake up so quickly. The sick and twisted whispers grabbed him by the chest and pulled him back into the water like quicksand.

"There are specters about." Lauren whispered fearfully and shook him again. "Frodo, m'lord, please wake up."

"Spectors?" Frodo started. The whole thing was supposed to be over. Why was he still hearing dead whispers? Why was she hearing them too? "_Spectors_?!" 

Frodo sat up straight in bed. Lauren had managed herself to his bedside and flopped down on it with weakness from the trek. Though she tried to sit politely at his bedside, she'd drooped wearily until her head was nearly laying on his stomach so she could desperately shake him awake. 

As soon as Frodo realized it was her, his attention turned to detect the specters she reported. The full moon beamed through a window and slantways onto the bedroom floor in a perfectly lit cylinder of glowing dust. The crickets were singing quietly. There was a bitter chill in the air. Outside, not too terribly far away, an old dead woman let out a long mournful wail.

Frodo froze to listen, but the single moan was gone and the night was full of crickets again. His widened alert eyes looked down at Lauren's widened terrified ones. He scooted closer to help her sit up again so the position wasn't so improper, but he took her hand and put an arm around her back, letting her limp body rest against the front of his shoulder instead.

It was just enough to keep her quiet and secure so he could pick the clues apart. The wail wasn't like the whispers of the Ring. The bright moon probably played tricks with dark shadows and strange shapes. He sat there full of tension, and prayed that it wasn't some old ghost of evil coming back to take revenge on him.

The wail sounded again. It was the same hollow-sounding moan of a crying woman, yet this time, there were two hollering together now. And it wasn't a woman. It was the sound of baying coyote's, but no, the voice was much deeper than that.

"Hound dogs," Frodo whispered. A grin snuck across his face to look down at her. "That's Mister Grubbs' hound dogs baying at the full moon."

Lauren had barely a tear of fear in her eye. "Are you sure?" She was snuggled into his chest and arm as if Frodo could save her from all the danger in the world. 

He watched her as they listened for another low wail. He kept his arm tight around her shoulders, sensing that she needed reassurances at the moment and tried to pull confidence out of her eyes with his own. "I'm certain of it."

At the next low wail, an old man cursed unintelligibly in the distance. An object hit stone and a dog yelped, immediately silencing the specters. 

"See?" Frodo smiled at her.

Lauren closed her eyes with a whispered curse at herself and ducked her face into his neck. She breathed away the locked up terror with shuddering sighs and barely managed to keep from falling into tears. 

Frodo wrapped the other arm around her and tried to shush her without bursting into laughter about it. "There, there. It's all right."

Her voice was muffled by his neck and the collar of his nightclothes. "No laughing." She gave him a weak slap on his shuddering chest.

Frodo couldn't help it. He chuckled deeply but not wildly, and could tell she was chuckling for a moment herself. It would take a moment to recover from the pure fear though. She stayed in his neck long after the chuckles had faded. 

Frodo knew how it felt, so he gave her all the time she needed. He rested his face on the top of her head with patience. They were still sitting up, but the simple feeling of a body in his arms was becoming intoxicating on its own. It radiated from her how safe she felt under his protection. 

His eyes sluggishly closed and his mind slowly relaxed. There was a new sense of peace in his soul. He sighed with the same intensity, feeling relief from undead terrors, even though he recovered from entirely different terrors than she did.

The hounds made a few scant noises after that, but their wailing was finished. The crickets and beetles sang outside but the night was silent otherwise. The stillness of it felt like time itself took a rest from incessantly ticking onward. It was so hushed and so tranquil and so motionless, that there was really no way to know how much time had passed. 

Frodo opened his eyes to darkness still holding this girl and suddenly wondering how long he'd been doing it. He swallowed hard to wonder why he'd started in the first place. He tucked his chin to whisper for her. "Lauren?" 

She drew in a new breath through her nose and stretched her back a little, but didn't make motion to climb away from his arms. "Mm?" She snuggled in again as if his chest and should was the very bed and pillow she sought.

"Oh no, you don't." Frodo's eyes widened and he immediately moved to get out of bed. He pealed himself away from her and hoped that it was a polite way to wake her out of it. "Let's get you back to bed." He was already moving to help her stand on her own feet by the time she opened her eyes again.

"Hound dogs," she scolded herself, wrapping her arm around his shoulder and falling limply against his side as she shuffled along. "What a dolt I am."

"The turn of events have been rough on you lately." Frodo said gently as he guided her down in her own bed. "You've a right for a harmless overreaction or two."

She tucked in sideways on the bed and snuck up a shy grin. 

Frodo's winked fondly at her and left the room.

~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~

**_Chickens that Multiply_**

He started tea, as always, before going into the backroom to check on her, but now it was common to find her already awake. She had the round window open to peer at the back porch and sat up comfortably in the bed, but she still reached her chin a touch so she could smile at the morning sky outside. 

Brown eyes slid playfully to him. "It seems, my lord, you have a few more chickens this morning than you did yesterday."

Frodo had been picking up the cutting board mess from last night's bedside meal. He stopped short. There were tiny chirps squeaking for feed in the yard.

Lauren continued. "Twice as many, I think." She peaked out again, "I can only see a few at a time."

"No." Frodo put the cutting board down and yanked open the back door near the foot of the bed. 

He stood dumbstruck. A half a dozen yellow-gray balls of fluff wandered blindly through the small porch, screaming for food while the mothers and aunts of said infants were still trapped in a blackened wood cage. The chicks weren't far from wandered off down the grassy hillside. 

Excited, Lauren climbed out of the bed and used furniture for balance as she shuffled herself to the door by his side. Her face lit up. "They're so tiny." She used the edge of the Hobbit hole to lower to her knees and reach for one. Her nightgown was dirty and flat hair needed brushing, but long, careful fingers reached to touch the soft down of a baby chick as it stumbled by.

"Damn," he sighed.

Lauren's tone dropped with concern. "What's the matter?"

Frodo squatted down and rested his elbows on his knees. "I put it off too long." The old chicken coop was so broken and dark it was hard to see the hens, much less eggs they laid. "I must've missed a batch."

"Have you got something against baby chickens?" She scolded playfully.

Frodo realized his reaction and shrugged, "No. It's just that I don't have room for them. I've no place to keep them until I build the new coop. And even then, I'm not sure it'll be big enough for ten. . .  twelve. . .  " he flapped a hand until it landed loudly on his knee.

Lauren sat on her feet and rested her hands in her gown-covered lap. "Why don't you keep them in the house?"

Frodo's blue eyes flared. "I am not keeping them in the house! They'll destroy every rug I own."

"Not the hens. Just the babies. While you build the new coop." She managed to scoop one up and brought it to her face. The frightened little thing writhed and peeped its hungry little screams. "Look. He's harmless."

Frodo looked at her pouty little face behind the wriggling creature. She brushed her cheek up against the fur of the chick's back. Tiny twig legs reached out from between her fingers and wiggle for freedom. And behind it all was Lauren's one smiling brown eye, trying to pout at him and speak in a squeaky little chick voice. "Please Master Frodo, let me come inside and play with Lauren."

Though charmed, he wasn't sure how to respond to this, save for smiling strangely at her and pointing out one obvious fact. "It's a she."

"What?" Lauren's ploy fell apart to pull the chick back and look at it. "How can you tell?"

Frodo shook his head and chuckled at her as he came back to his feet. "Tell you what. . . " He stepped out into the yard and tried to pull an old basket from a corner. "If you're strong enough get your dress on by yourself, I think you can handle supervising the babies on the porch while I build the new coop."

He was moving the extra clutter out of his way but eyes moved to her. Her whole face blossomed and she moved as quickly as her weak body would let her back into the house. 

Frodo let out a full sigh. He felt a pang of jealousy that she could find such delight in something as stupid as freshly hatched chickens. He couldn't remember when life was that easy. He rested a broken cart-wheel to stand on its end and reviewed the old wet leaves and similar winter garbage in the resulting corner. 

It was kind of fun to watch someone enjoy the simple things like she did, even if he couldn't. He wondered what age it was when life was like that naturally: when chicklets were fun to play with, hound dogs sounded like specters, and Hobbit feet still looked big enough to grow potatoes.

He put an overturned crate down as the last of his make shift chicken wall. Satisfied that the babies wouldn't escape now, he moved carefully not to step on them and get back into the house. 

Other than carrying in a fresh bowl and pitcher for her, he left her to rediscover her morning routine alone. He paused more than once though, listening for sounds of having fallen or shy cries for help. Dresses were such a confusing thicket of cloth that he couldn't imagine how ladies wriggled themselves into them when they _weren't_ ailed with weakened muscles. And he knew there was more under there than just the dress a man could see, but the mysterious underthings weren't a part of the neatly folded package that Rose had returned.

 Perhaps that's why she took so long. He refreshed his teacup more than once without consciously deciding to stay close enough to hear a yelp. She seemed well enough to move around the house on her own, albeit slow and tender about it. She was unlikely to fall and hurt herself. But getting tangled in her own clothes was a different story.

An image flashed in his mind. Then he wondered how he would handle untangling her.

Instantly, Frodo decided it best that she figure this one out on her own. After all, this seasoned Hobbit still had yet to endure some of life's common adventures. But the flush never fully came to his cheeks only because he scrambled out of the kitchen and out of earshot as quickly as he could.

~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~

**_Weathertop – Just Your Average Camping Accident_**

Lauren emerged several long minutes later. It was a boring brown peasant dress that covered her, yet she tiptoed out on her small bare feet with a high chin as if she were dressed for a ball. The skirt reached to her calves, torn in places, and there was a dingy, limp slip sporting a second layer. Dark wool held her together at the bodice and an unbleached shirt bagged tiredly down to the frilled cuffs at her wrists. Lauren concentrated to move daintily out to the yard and sit proper on the chair Frodo had already moved out for her. 

Frodo's palms paused on the end of the broomstick and his grinning mouth rested against his thumbs. "You look like you feel better." 

She nodded regally. "I feel whole again."

He put down the broom and brought her a wide garden basket. 

"Well, more whole than before anyway," she muttered as she took it. Her tone went cold with fear. "How long have I been here, Frodo?"

"A couple of weeks. . .  Almost three." Frodo was steady and patient to catch the unsuspecting chicks without enjoyment. "Grandma Bolgers found you beached on the marshy side of our pond one morning." One at a time, he caught the chicks and brought them to her. He let each baby pour out of his hands and into the basket. 

Her fingers incidentally brushed against the back of his as the chick was guided from one gentle set of hands to the other. As he pulled away, her thumb brushed ever so lightly on the shorter stub of his left index finger.

Frodo paid acute attention to what her fingertips felt like, though he didn't mean to, and tried to pretend not to. He turned away before the shock of the incident showed in his face. "How did you manage to stumble into the pond?"

Her voice was hushed. "I don't know." She scratched a spot above her hairline. 

Frodo gathered the last chick before he looked at her again. She had been so frozen it took a week to rouse her, so this wasn't a surprise. "Memory still coming back?"

"I guess so." Her eyes looked scared at the chicks. She scooped them with her arms and petted the ones in reach of her thumb. "I don't remember what a baby rooster looks like."

Frodo squatted in front of her so he could look her in the eyes, trying to pull a little strength out of them. The real goal was not lost in his priorities. "Do you remember your family name?"

She met his eyes with severity, not hiding anything from him, but not having anything to offer either. "I'm not even certain my name is Lauren." She looked sadly at him, imagining how much of a burden she was. A case of amnesia after an accident wasn't unheard of, and it must have been terrifying to those that had it, but Frodo instantly felt a pang of envy. 

He could recall when he couldn't remember home while he was in hell. Why couldn't he completely forget hell when he was at home?

For a split second, he wondered the magic required to deliberately cause amnesia and considered calling on an old friend to cast it on him. But forgetting everything that had happened was only the half of it, everyone around him also had to forget what had happened too. Though his face wasn't well known beyond the Shire, his name certainly was. Lauren had the best of both worlds: no memory and no one to remind her either.

But then, she probably had a good and easy life somewhere awaiting her return. The moment those beautiful white swells under that bodice started to grow, Lauren would have been swept up by the nearest bachelor and a litter's worth of children would have been born by now. 

Frodo almost wished he hadn't peeked, but the original appreciation hadn't faded either. He put a strong hand on the back of hers and gave her a smile of respect as he stood tall again. "Don't worry, Lauren. I'll help you find it all again."

She curled her hair behind her round ear and blushed a bit. The deliberate use of the name was like giving her permission to have an identity, even if she couldn't recall any details of it. Frodo turned to get to work and Lauren watched him with warmth in her eyes.

Lauren was good company while he worked. She spoke brightly about innocent things, trees, spring, chickens and so forth, but didn't talk too much. She easily handed over tools that were in her reach, and spent long quiet moments comforting the little chicks in the basket on her lap. 

A moment of heaving lifting from an odd angle sent a sharp pang in his damaged shoulder. He dropped the hammer and nursed it quickly, and Lauren satup with a start. She became far too concerned about it as though the chicken coop itself had led him to pull a muscle, but Frodo tried to ease her worries without drawing out more questions. 

Lauren innocently accepted his excuse: "an old injury from a terrible camping accident," which, of course, she teased him about for the rest of the morning trying to figure out what could have possibly gone that wrong while camping. Her antics brought a quiet smile to his face often during the day and caused him to chuckle outright at least once. And neither of them really noticed how fast the new, fresh pine chicken coop was coming along. 

Pippin strolled up the hill for a visit, not surprisingly around afternoon tea, and after a bright and friendly introduction between the two, the friend dug out a handful of plump pink berries. "Look what I found." 

Merriadoc shuffled up the back hill. He set his elbows on the new coop and rested his cheek in his hand. 

Frodo smiled at Merry and glanced wisely at Pippin. "Where did you find them?"

Pippin stepped over to sprinkle a few into Lauren's hand. "In a bowl on a window sill. It's amazing how far the breeze carries them from the tree." 

"Three miles?" Merry asked.

Pippin jumped a bit at Merry's sudden presense.  "How long have you been following me?"

"Three miles," Merry quipped.

"Don't worry." Pippin patted the empty breast pockets of his tan-striped vest, "I seem to have lost a couple of coins when I did it." At least Pippin was starting to pay for the food he stole. Perhaps he was starting grow up after all.

Frodo put his work down and moved quietly back into the house. "Perhaps I'll find some bread to go with them."

Lauren tasted a berry with thanks sparkling in her eye at Pippin. The man sat down on his bum not far from her chair 

The coop was tall enough to fit a Hobbit in. Merry checked out Frodo's work. "Just how many chickens is he going to put in there?"

"These younglings hatched by accident this morning," Lauren explained.

"Younglings are no accident." Pippin insisted as he reached into the basket to pet one. "I guarantee that some part of the whole thing was quite intentional."

Lauren giggled.

"Let's see here." Pippin reached his chin over her elbow and studied the chicks in her basket-covered lap. "Just as I suspected." He gave her a leery eye. "This one looks like Joey. That's Mr. Grubbs' rooster." He lowered his voice and nodded arrogantly. "I thought that one looked a little _cocky_ this morning."

"Ha!" Merry tooted.

"Watch your language," Frodo scolded as he came back out.

Lauren covered her mouth but the snicker escaped anyway.

Frodo passed out a roll to each of them, unamused by Pippin's jokes but not truly upset about their inference either. 

Merry thanked him quietly for the muffin and chewed happily. "You're going to have an awful lot of eggs in a couple of months."

"No. I'm going to have a couple of full meals the next couple of months."

Lauren sounded a quiet gasp at the thought. "Frodo."

Frodo lifted a brow and took the basket of chicks from her so she could use her arms to eat. "What did you think chickens were for?"

She looked like she swallowed her tongue for a minute.

Pippin grinned with amazement at the girl's reaction. "It's all right. We feed them for a while, then they feed us for a while. It's how the world works."

Sam came around the corner and rested an elbow against the edge of the rock crag that oddly made up the patio's side fence. He had intended to say something, but his octave rose to comment on the unexpected scene. "Would you look at all the little chicks! And an awake woman to tend to them too." He flicked a half-grin. "Havoc has truly fallen upon the House of Frodo."

Pippin grinned in agreement. Merry winked at Lauren so she wouldn't take offense. Frodo shook his head and sighed away the quip without honoring it with a response. 

Sam's mind returned to the task he came for and looked directly at Lauren. "Rose wants to know the last time you had a hot meal."

"You're guess is as good as mine," she told him plainly.

Sam shifted his gaze to the man of the house. "Supper's at sundown."

Now sitting on the mosaic stone that was the patio, Frodo nodded and took another difficult bite of the cold bread.

Pippin lifted his brows eagerly. "Can I come?"

Merry pointed at him with an order, "Only if you go apologize to Bailey first."

Pippin's face pained dramatically. "But she won't even answer the door!"

Merry flicked the back of his hand at Pippin. "You dolt! That's what I came looking for you about. She was off visiting her sister in Longbottom for two weeks. She wasn't even home until this morning."

Pippin's mouth dropped open. He flicked his amazement at Lauren to share his surprise. 

Sam chuckled about it and turned to shuffle away again. "And all this time you thought she wasn't talking to you."

Pippin quickly brushed the crumbs off his legs and sprang to his feet. "Well, she wasn't talking to me when she left." He trotted out of the patio and told it to Sam's face before running off. "Including not talking to me that she was leaving." He turned around to beg Merry. "Back me up?"

Merry shoved his hands in his front pockets and nodded even as the question came out. "Yes, yes. Of course I will." 

Sam's big shoulders still rumbled with wise laughter. He exchanged glances with Frodo, who shook his head with an even quieter smile. Merry smiled at Frodo, nodded to Sam and followed the flighty Pippin back down the hill.

"Mister Gamgee?" Lauren asked with a curious but friendly angle to her chin. The mood seemed light enough to ask such a question. "Would you kindly tell me the tale of Frodo's camping accident?"

Carrot-colored eyebrows ducked with not-so-pleasant confusion. "Camping accident?" His eyes flicked to Frodo with questions. 

"The injury on his shoulder," she explained politely. "He leads me on to believe there is an entertaining story and then won't speak a peep of it."

Lauren didn't notice it because Frodo didn't outwardly react, but his eyes answered Sam's unspoken question as easily as if he'd said it aloud. The subject was not to be visited, but it didn't take a foul look or an order to tell him that.

Sam dropped his eyes to the ground and shucked a grin. "Well I suppose it could qualify as a camping accident from a certain point of view." His eyebrows were still oddly bushed at her. 

Frodo smiled a little before muttering. "Lauren is having troubles with her memory."

"Ah." Sam lifted his chin, then looked politely at Lauren and bowed a head, humored and polite. "I would be delighted to tell you the tale, Miss Lauren, but I haven't Frodo's permission, and more importantly," a new smile broke out on his face, "I haven't _nearly_ enough time to tell it." His eyes were full of truth. "See you later."

Frodo flashed a bittersweet smile at that last comment and waved Sam off. 

The sudden silence fell to peeping chicks and clucking mother hens. The way he sat to eat wasn't exactly facing her, so it took a beat or two of discomfort before he made any big moves. He hoped the topic had fallen away on its own.

Her voice was crisp and smooth like an autumn morning. "Is it a difficult tale to tell?" 

Frodo shrugged a shoulder, but the stiffness was obvious. "Why do you think that?"

"If 'terrible camping accident' is its euphemism, I can't imagine the tale behind it." Her voice was gentle, and didn't seem surprised when he didn't answer. "Perhaps its wise Sam doesn't have permission to tell it."

Frodo smiled thankfully at her acquiescence about it and turned his face toward her, but only enough for her to see the side of it. "It's a bit of a relief that you don't know." His voice died a little. "Strange as that may sound."

Lauren's voice smiled from behind him. "Small town gossip, right? Everyone knows your business better than you?"

His mouth cracked open with the comparison. A single eye turned back to her with a nod. "Something like that."

He found Lauren's eyes smiling down at him as a wiser woman than he expected her to be. 

"And the finger? I suppose that happened in the camping accident as well?"

Frodo spun around on his bum, draped his elbows around his knees and boldly took in her expression. "It was a fairly long endeavor."

She knew full well that there was a great deal more to it than a camp and accident. In fact, she was likely to believe there was no intention to camp and no real accident in the story at all, but she let it be what he said it was, and gave him the right to his own secrets. She let the tone of the topic drop off like the last few notes of a song. "You seem to have come through all right."

Frodo's eyes shined. His face smiled from ear to pointed ear as he climbed back to his feet. "Yeah, I suppose I did." He handed her the basket and gathered up the chicks for the second shift.

Lauren received the chicks with fingertips brushing as gently against his hands as they did before.

In one magical minute, it had been reduced to a simple camping accident and made the memory easier to digest. It was a gift to visit with a girl that didn't care to talk about the Ring or the adventures around it. The new tidiness of a back patio swept a small burden from his mind. The sunny day soaked into his senses. His eyes sparkled with joy as he fetched the chicks. And a set of warm brown eyes smiled so easily back at him that it became fun to wonder what was on her mind.

~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~

**_Giggle Juice_**

Sam's house always felt busy these days. Elanor was becoming more of a bright, noisy wiggle as time moved on. The kitchen was full of yummy smells and the air was warm and cozy. Lauren was settled in a chair without any extra fuss and Rosie talked to her about the ingredients of the beefy stew. Sam bounced Elanor on his knee, ate with his free hand, and spoke to Frodo simultaneously. He intended a trip to Bree in the near future.

Frodo starkly lacked excitement about going to Bree. "What's in Bree that you can't get in the Shire?"

"Cotton," Sam said with a sudden glitter in his eye. He spoke of the fabric as though it were female.

It summonsed refreshed attention from Frodo. "What's wrong with wool?"

"Wool's too heavy and scratchy." Sam said, his smile beaming with pride now. "Rose needs to make a whole new batch of baby clothes."

Frodo's face flashed with delight. "Again?!" 

"So I figured we could go into Bree together, pick up supplies for my son_,_" Sam paused to shine victoriously, "and ask around about Lauren's family at the same time." He bit into his roll without a care the Elanor was hanging off his forearm with stretched arms and legs trying to escape his grip. Rosie quietly rescued the tot from his arms, kissed him on the cheek, and sat down next to him to feed Elanor.

"That's wonderful, Sam." Frodo smiled, but the emotion coming from his heart tinted a bit green. "Congratulations."

"Don't drink that!" Lauren spouted. Her hand was out to Rose, and Rose was halted in the middle of a sip from a brass goblet. 

The other three silenced in bewilderment. "Why not?"

"Drink is bad for a baby," Lauren said, still holding her hand out until Rose actually lowered the wine from her mouth. "I've seen what can happen."

"Perhaps in moderation," Rose admitted just to shrug the woman off. "Elanor turned out all right."

Lauren was insistent. "Yes, but it hits and misses. A single sip can do it sometimes. It doesn't touch others. It's safer not to have any at all." She seemed so certain about it.

Rose put down the chalice, half-insulted and half-curious. "Where did you hear this?"

Lauren caught her breath a moment before she realized she didn't know, but she admitted her failure. "I'm not sure. I just don't want harm to come to your baby. I meant no offense."

Rosie gazed indecisively at the bottle on the table.

Sam looked over his wife's shoulder. "Couldn't hurt, Rose." He scooped up another spoonful and shoveled it into his mouth. "After all, it's only for a little while."

"But it wouldn't be any _fun_," Rosie pouted at Sam. "Don't you know how many giggles are trapped in a single bottle of wine?"

"Know?" Sam echoed as he chawed on a chunk from the stew and motioned to her belly as he sniggered. "How do you think I got you like that in the first place?"

Rosie slapped his knee.

The love song entered the room before Pippin did, pulling everyone out of their reaction to watch him pretend a graceful dance across the floor with a tiny bouquet of orange flowers in his fingers. 

_It was a winter's white kiss_

_And a fair blushing miss_

_That kept my heart far and away._

"She accepted your apology," Sam said plainly.

Pippin stopped his feet together at the head of the table, smiled with eyes as light and intoxicated as his song, and gave them all a grand bow. Merry had stepped up easily behind him and simply nodded hello while Pippin kept the stage.

"What does that mean exactly," Rose asked, daring him to change his ways.

Pippin flipped up again with a man's not so innocent smile on his face. 

Merry helped himself to a bowl of stew. "It means he can still get drunk when she's not around."

Sam shook his head at Pippin's deplorable ways.

Pippin caught the eye of Elanor and straddled the bench next to Rose so he could flirt with the baby. "Hello, my sweet." She had a single finger hanging out of the side of her mouth, having the intent to suck it, but giggling too much to close her mouth. Pippin gave the fat little cheek a big smooch just to make her giggle more. Then he sat up again to flip out the orange flowers from nowhere and present them to Rose. "These are for you."

The cinnamon girl was charmed. "Thank you, Pippin." 

From the other side of Mrs. Gamgee, Sam's eyes emerged as daggers.

Pippin leaned back and flapped hands up to yield. "I was just honoring the lady of the house."

Sam glared at him until Pippin found another place to sit. Lauren chuckled softly at Pippin's attempt to ignore him. Meriadoc slid into the bench beside Lauren with a fresh bowl of stew. 

"They're having another one," Frodo told them.

Pippin flipped his attention like a squirrel. "Another what?"

Rose's eyes glittered shyly and Sam's eyes glowed with pride.

"Another poppet?" Pippin sat up loudly. "That was fast."

Merry smiled over the roll in his hand, "We're going to have to build another chicken coop just for all of Sam's kids."

Sam's eyes slid from one bachelor hobbit to the other, trying to defend his turf from their comments and not blast a smile at the jokes at the same time. He couldn't come up with quick comebacks, but he had wizened enough to have a full understanding of the quips they pinged at him.

Frodo laughed at the display. It felt good to laugh even if he was only on the sidelines. He caught Lauren's shiny brown eyes along the way. She was quietly enjoying the display but looked so tired and weak that she looked ready to dribble on the floor like a silk scarf.  

Sam mouthed something to Pippin about a 'carcass' and a 'fireplace'.

Pippin defended. "You know I was joking. Look! Even Frodo's laughing."

_Even Frodo is laughing. . .  _As if it had turned into some unusual sight. 

Frodo was instantly somber. He waited until Lauren had put her spoon down for good and decided it was time to go before the supper event was really over. 

As soon as the silent night hit her, Lauren really was dribbling to the ground. Within two steps from Sam's door, Frodo picked her up completely. She tried to hold her weight with her arms, so she wasn't difficult to carry, but her face fell into his neck and she sighed with sleepiness and comfort. 

Frodo instantly knew why Pippin said what he did. _Look. Even Frodo's laughing._

She had been here long enough to make a permanent impression. Frodo would undoubtedly think about her from time to time after she left. He wondered if Lauren's strange source of wisdom would reach deep enough into his eyes to know that. Frodo certainly wasn't going to tell her himself.

~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~

**_Flirting 101_**

Lauren took on the task of collecting the eggs from the new hen house from that day on. The old one was torn apart and its planks fed to the forest for mulch along with all that had been cleaned out that day. The result was a spacious patch of mosaic stone that served as Frodo's patio. The large new cage was clean and gave the baby chicks a fine, sunny place to grow up.

By the end of that week, she was out of bed more than she was in it. It started with the eggs, then she took on the morning tea, and then the after-supper clean up. Frodo took it as either her personal desire to earn her keep or her way of showing her appreciation for his hospitality. Without either of them saying a word about it, she was stepping up to become the maiden for his household.

Frodo would peer at her as she cleaned the tea out of the pot, trying to see through a façade to learn her real intentions behind the unasked chore. He finally decided that there was it was some womanly instinct about women and cleaning houses. The natural drive must have been untamable; like a man's feral need to—

Never mind.

Day to day living was becoming comfortable, her company was delightful, and Frodo found his smile defenseless from time to time. The jokes continued between them, ranging from potatoes in his big feet to the footless pegs she stood on. She was a dash shorter than he and had no feet to speak of (in Hobbit terms anyway). He would tell her it looked like her legs just stopped at the ankles and she would swat him on the elbow the next time she had the chance.

It wasn't long until the spring storms rolled through, and the first one was always a whopper. It had drove him subconsciously into another Ring-related nightmare before a deafening crack woke him with a start. He was better after he shook it from his shoulders, but upon fetching a midnight smoke, he found Lauren tucked into a corner of the front room.

She was a quaking little ball of nerves that twitched every flash and every thunder strike. Her eyes filled with relief when she focused on him. She had tried to come to him for comfort from the storm, but got lost along the way. Frodo sat on the floor next to her and wrapped his arm around her tense shoulders. He smoked his pipe and relaxed as he let her lean on him even though he knew it was a bad idea. He didn't hold her as close as he did the night of the hound dogs. He was afraid she was getting the wrong impression of his kindness. 

Despite his intentions, he unfortunately dozed off there in the corner of the room, wearing nothing but nightclothes, with the girl huddled into his arm and shoulder, and her face softly hiding in his neck. He snoozed comfortably and she slept safely until the roosters crowed to greet the wet morning.

Frodo tried to slink out of the situation without a great deal of conversation, but her friendly, appreciative eyes tried to cast spells on him as he stepped away. He didn't get frightened about it until the spells actually started to work.

Next thing he knew, there was a new smell in the house. He came home a few days later to find the candles lit to cozy the house for his arrival, hear sweet and happy humming, and smell rich, stocky food and the sensual scent of jasmine. For a moment, he sank into the moment like it was some vivid dream dancing across his mind – but he realized the reality of it and his smile disappeared. Thoughtfully, Frodo stripped his outerwear down to shirt and vest and wandered down the hall towards the source of the new scents. 

He found a soup brewing in the small caldron in the front room fireplace and a fresh scrubbed woman stirring it into a scrumptious supper. She had scrubbed cream-colored skin and soft-brushed chestnut hair. This was Lauren's first try at cooking for him, and worked an innocent smile when he came into the room. "Welcome home."

No smile graced Frodo's mouth this time. In fact, his mouth got smaller. He stepped up beside her and gazed into the pot to find an attempt at Rose's beef stew. He looked at her and sighed through his nose. She smelled of jasmine soap.

Frodo now had a mind what Lauren was probably up to, but he had yet to discover a successful method to convince anybody that Bilbo's notorious riches were non-existent. Lauren was perhaps the only person he'd met in recent years who thought he was that stupid. There's only one place she could have gotten the jasmine or the recipe. It surprised him that Rose would be in on it too. A serious talk with Sam was in order, as was an inventory of the pantry, water keg and vegetable garden. He didn't even want to know where she got the beef.

Frodo turned away from her without a word. She worked hard to pretend that nothing was different and Frodo kept holding his breath in his chest as he set the table, pretending pitifully that he didn't notice what changed. She had almost reeled him in too.

She nibbled her supper silently, stiffened that he looked so displeased, and slid a glance to him from time to time, looking for signs of relief from the mood, but Frodo didn't look at her. His gaze was deep in thought about what to do about it. He would have taken it different had she been a lady he was suiting, but without confirmation of her marital status, the entirety of his natural response was locked tightly in his chest. It felt like a thumb was pressing hard on the spot right under his collarbone. The pressure was so intense that it affected every bit of living innards that hid behind his breastplate. His face soured accordingly, almost to the point of looking nauseous. He stopped eating before his bowl was empty and subconsciously started chewing his nails as he mulled over the predicament.

Other girls had sweetened up to him at the pub since his return, but they were obviously trying to suck money out of Bag End. Lauren seemed to slip into his soul from the hidden back door. She was already the first face he saw everyday and the last he saw at night. It would only take a split second of indiscretion to turn the whole thing into the spiciest topic on the grapevine.

This had been forefront in his mind since she woke up and it hadn't taken a lot of discipline to keep his manners closer to the side of safety. He only needed to remember that she was likely someone else's wife already. And since adultery couldn't have been further from Frodo's style, the discipline was as easy as a simple decision.

 He realized then that he had been waiting for her to reveal her history to him as soon as she remembered it; without being prompted about it. The realization was enough to shield his soul to ask her about it. Frodo boldly raised his face to talk to her.

She met his eyes penitently, already knowing she had gone too far. About what however, she didn't seem certain.

"What's your family name?" His voice was cold. 

She was struck by the suddenness of the question, but not surprised by its asking. She lowered her chin humbly and tried to smile through a sudden sadness. "I thought you were going to Bree—"

"I have to have a clue to start with, Lauren," he interrupted. "Give me something to go on."

She stared at the tabletop and found only an empty spot in her mind. Pained eyes turned up to him. Slanted brows distorted her face. Her eyes flicked this way and that, looking for a clue, a hint of familiarity, something solid her mind could grasp and find its balance again. The only thing solid she could mentally grab a hold of was Frodo, and that was only because he had become familiar over the weeks as he nursed her back to health.

Frodo's mouth pulled in until it was small again and eyes of disappointment rolled back to his meal without further comment. The single statement pointed out what he expected of her and no scented soap or soft hair was going to distract him from it. 

Lauren excused herself with a mutter and dashed out of the room.

Frodo closed his eyes. He felt the echo of that cold stab again, only it was in the middle of his chest this time, not his shoulder. 

~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~

**_A Critical Review of the Little Wench_**

She never went so far as to curtsy for him or anything so absurd, but she clearly shifted her manners as his hired help and fell into the roll as if a natural. She even addressed him as 'm'lord' when she was about to ask a question. This practice wasn't common among Hobbits. 'M'lord' was very much a custom of Men and only reminded Frodo not to get too comfortable with her presence. 

Even if he had, there were other forces at work. Whispers had started to sneak out about what she was still doing there. The doctor hadn't yet cleared the mysterious woman for travel, but that didn't convince everybody. The sewing circle was adamant about what Frodo should or should not do about Lauren. That gaggle elder ladies had a tendency to make moral decisions about everyone in Hobbiton. 

What was unusual was that the suspicions didn't fall onto the man; they fell on the maid. Frodo had somehow been awarded another distasteful honor. They granted him every right to do whatever he wanted with Lauren, including the unspeakable, whether she (or they) were married or not. He rescued her and nursed her back to health after all; he deserved some form of reward. Were she genuine, they were convinced she was left behind. However, "that mangirl better keep her grubby hands off whatever she finds in Bag End. She was likely a planted into his care some how. She's putting on an act so she could to case the place for Bilbo's fortune. . .  little wench."

The guys didn't pass the whispers on, but they didn't all together disagree with them either. It was true that Frodo's dark cloud was lifted from his eyes shortly after she was discovered, the other three men were glad for that, but Lauren was getting better every day. She should have remembered something by now. 

Sam, Merry and Pippin were worried about him, and worried what the rumors would do to his demeanor once they reached his ears. It was planned, sort of, to get him out of Bag End, away from the girls, and off where honesty had no fears about galloping beyond reason. The four of them walked a field alone this time. The day was a little brighter and the plowing was already done, but corn had yet to sprout from the dark dirt. 

Frodo had already suspected the reports. None of it seemed to be a surprise to him, but the dark cloud that cast shadows of memory over Frodo's expression reappeared quickly.

"Maybe she thinks you've got a ton of loot hidden in your basement." Merry asked, stomping down clods that were missed. 

"I don't have any riches," Frodo pointed out pitifully. It wasn't three days ago when he scooped out Sam's wages. Instead of dipping in for a full handful, his fingertips scraped across the splintery bottom of the small, brass-bound wood chest Bilbo had left him. It was the last chest of coin, and it was quite a shocker to see the bottom of it for the first time in his life. Sam always knew there was no extensive fortune, but until Frodo had a plan to turn the financial tide, Frodo wasn't going to reveal to him or anyone how slim the funds were really getting. "I don't even have a basement," he added pitifully.

"Maybe she just doesn't want to go home." Pippin picked up another rock and gave it a baseball throw to the empty end of the field. "Maybe she is married and has a drunkard for a husband. Y'know, one that beats her all the time."

"Then she should say something instead of pretending she lost any memory of it." Frodo walked along beside them looking at how close the Misty Mountains were. The world wasn't as big as it used to be.

Sam muttered quietly to him. "We'll head out for Bree as soon as the sowings over." The comment pointed out that Lauren hadn't even been with them a whole month, yet it felt like she'd been with them twice as long.

Frodo sighed a little. "We're not going to find any answers in Bree, Sam." He stopped and turned to look the man in the eyes. The others naturally stopped to listen to him. "You're right and Merry's right." He nodded to each of them for their ideas. "She's after something. She should have remembered something by now."

"What about me?" Pippin asked childishly.

"You're right too, Pippin," Frodo told him and pouted angrily at the ground. "She's too pretty to still be a maid."

"There's a sure way to tell if she's a maid or not." Pippin offered lightly. The other three glanced over for an explanation to that one. Pippin's face lifted with the topic. "Women can't fake a blush."

Sam curled his lip and glanced back at Frodo, who was looking a little defensive about this. Sam grinned, "Neither can men."

Merry chuckled quietly, rubbing the bridge of his nose. 

Frodo crossed his arms at his chest and lifted his face boldly, even though he had no intentions of carrying this out. "What would you have me do?"

"Kiss her," Pippin said as if it were obvious. "If she blushes, you can be sure her flower is still waiting to be plucked."

"Or at least she _thinks_ it does," Merry put in.

Pippin nodded at that and continued, "But if she _doesn't_ blush," he hunched over and twisted his hands together like some deformed, treasure lusting cretin, "if she keeps up and says, 'ooh yeah, Frodo, I want some more', then you can be fairly certain she's scheming something."

Merry and Sam found humor in Pippin's display, but the small grin that was in Frodo's eye was gone again. The idea, to him, was absurd. "I'm not going to kiss her just to see if she blushes."

"Shall I do it for you?" Merry offered. 

"No," Frodo said quickly. His mouth tightened even more. "Don't touch her."

Merry got the exact response he was expecting. He shrugged a shoulder and glanced off.

Sam looked at Frodo with worry on his brow. "What are you going to do?"

Frodo hated to have to say this, and it was clear that his throat was tight when he said it. "The doctor said she's only half Hobbit, if any at all." A shadow crossed through Frodo's eyes. "If nothing comes up in Bree then I'll take her to the closest land of Men to search out her family on her own."

"No Frodo," Sam insisted. "She's not your responsibility."

Frodo spat at him too quickly, "Then it shouldn't be wrong to pass her off to somebody else."

"True," Merry said without moving anything but his eyes. "But you don't want to."

Frodo yanked up a stone and started stepping back to throw it out of the field. "Until I know for sure, I'm not giving her the chance to rip my heart off my chest and dive into the lava with it!"

Several eyebrows lifted. The accuracy of the metaphor was just as much of a surprise to him as it was his friends. 

Frodo cussed vividly. He threw the rock hard away.

"Lauren isn't Gollum." Pippin told him. "And you don't have the Ring to steal." 

"She has nothing to gain!" Sam insisted. "Not like you're thinking."

Frodo snarled at him, "You said yourself she should have remembered something by now."

Sam flapped his hands at him. "Yeah, but that's no reason to expect her to betray you like Gollum did. The Ring is gone."

"He's not wrong to worry, Sam." Merry insisted with a weathered voice. "The Ring maybe good and gone, but some parts are still with us." 

Pippin glanced over at Merry with a hardened mouth and saddened eyes. His eyes dropped to the ground to relive his own momentary horror.

Merry lowered his voice to a deep, tense tone. "Some parts will always be with us."

Sam pressed his mouth closed and dropped his eyes. "That may be true." He lifted his head just as quickly. "But _that_ has nothing to do with _this_. She can't be that evil! She can't be that good at the art of deceiving!" Sam looked over at Frodo. "And you can't be suspicious of her just because you like her!"

Pippin still stood with fists in his corduroy pockets and locked joints. "We _all_ like her. That's what makes us suspicious."

Frodo shuffled back toward the group. "Make up your mind, Sam. You know I'm going to listen to you this time! Are you defending or accusing?"

"I'm not doing neither!" Sam yelled in insult. "I'm just saying your acting like there are still greater powers at work here when there aren't! I'll admit she may be some con-woman that's up to something, but we'll figure it out! We're watching for you! Just because there' s a risk gives no reason to run off to Rohan just to pawn her off to the mankin. She's not even their size!"

Pippin expression tripped when he got lost. "When did we start talking about going to Rohan?"

Merry strolled patiently around Sam's stiff shoulders. "What Sam is saying is that not everything that tempts Frodo is so evil that it deserves trip across Middle Earth just to get rid of it again."

Frodo rubbed his eye sockets with the heals of his palms.

"And I think Sam's right." Merry said to Frodo, lowering his voice. "Be cautious, sure. Hold onto your heart until you get the truth about her- Fine. But sail to the other side of the ocean just to throw her overboard? That's ridiculous." 

Frodo had listened to all of it and all of it sunk in. He flopped his hands down and slapped his palms against his legs. After a deep sigh, he thanked Pippin and Merry with his eyes, gave Sam a simple pat on the shoulder. Frodo whispered the subject closed before the debate turned sour. "We'll see what we can find in Bree."

~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~

**_The Blush Test_**

It was raining, so he stayed home and locked himself up in the study all morning. His brows were knotted as he hunched stiff and serious over the giant book, like the writing of it would somehow make it all go away. 

She announced her presence behind him by resting her hand timidly on his shoulder. He glanced up only to see the slim hand move a cup of tea to clatter on its way to the desktop.

She remained behind him as if forcing him to take a break. Her tone was pained and chilly. "Is this the story no one is allowed to tell?"

Frodo lifted his chin and lowered his eyes. "It seems the safest place for such a story to be."

Her tone was the cool smoothness of a razor blade. "This 'camping trip' of yours takes up an awful lot of pages."

 Frodo closed his eyes. 

Lauren stepped off as silently as she came in.

Point taken.

He leaned back in his chair and watched the rain turn the air gray outside the window. He wondered if she was faking it all, but he still couldn't imagine what she could have possibly gained out of the charade. Lauren had been keeping house long enough to realize there wasn't any. 

A few times, at the pubs or at town parties, girls would flirt with him just because they knew who he was. It didn't matter that he had no real spoils of war. It didn't matter that he never called upon the powerful people he knew. It was as if they were in competition. The type of man a girl managed to lure seemed to be some flavor of status symbol even if he had no real money or power. They flirted with him just because he was famous. 

This didn't make much sense to Frodo, but it did explain why he was so delighted to learn Lauren was ignorant about the Ring. Maybe amnesia was the only way he could find a girl who would see him for what he was instead of what he had done before. And that brought him to realize why he didn't yet let anyone to tell her the story. It was the only way she would see Frodo instead of The Ring Bearer. 

Frodo closed his eyes again with a curse. The night before she got here, he wished aloud for his turn to come; for the life after to start, and she was found not far from his front door the very next day as if dropped from heaven. Was it really coincidence that he had the right circumstances and she had the right kind of injuries for Frodo to innocently take her into his home and care for her. The amnesia erased all the questions that he was tired of receiving from people. And the way she warmly ducked into his chest, the luscious dinner and the jasmine in her hair. . . . He grew suspicious of her because she had apexed as 'too good to be true.'

Frodo climbed slowly out of his chair and covered the ink so it wouldn't dry out. He put his hands in his front pockets and stepped indecisively out to the hallway to find she'd only traveled four feet from his door before collapsing to sit sadly on a bench. Her back was to him as if trying to turn away from his rejection, trying to figure out what to do because of it.

She lifted a head when she heard his feet and paused a long moment to see if he was going to walk by her or go back in. But Frodo stopped where he was, leaned his back against a curved beam of house frame. He watched her stiff back, but his voice wasn't harsh about it. "If you remembered a difficult life you didn't want to go back to, would you tell me?"

"What do you mean?" She left her chin and eyes aimed at the floor.

"If you had a husband that beat you, perhaps; if you just didn't want to go home. . . would you tell me the truth?"

She rubbed her lips together to think of this one with honesty, "Yes. . .  At least I think I would."

"Even if you knew for certain I was going to return you to which ever family has the rights to you?"

She glanced up at that. "I would simply hope you would have mercy on me."

"I couldn't." He narrowed his eyes at her. "You know I couldn't. Even if you didn't want to go. Even if I didn't want to give you over." He waved a hand, "Even if your marriage was nothing but misery and pain, I would still deliver you to your rightful lord."

Lauren swallowed a lump in her throat. "Why?"

He looked at his feet. "Because it's the right thing to do." He huffed out his nose a bit. His voice went tense. "This isn't the first time I've been in possession of a precious thing that wasn't mine. If this entire episode is an act, then you would already know that about me. And you would already know I'll turn you over to the man who has the rights to you no matter how many flowers you smell like or how many meals you cook."

Her brows hardened. She stood from the chair poised for battle, keeping kept her hands hanging by her skirt as she closed the distance. Lauren stood her ground when faced him directly across the hall. "You have convicted me before you bothered to arrest me, Mister Frodo." She lifted her chin. "At what point in all this did I come under suspect as a con artist?"

Frodo closed his eyes. "That's not what I meant." 

"Then perhaps you should reword it," she ordered. 

His eyes opened to her again. He stood on his feet and looked at her from a high nose. "If you think you're beholden to me because you stayed on my spare bed for a couple of weeks, don't! It's not worth the effort you're putting into it. If you are trying to thank me with all this because you think I've saved your life, stop! I didn't save your life any more than I saved anyone else's."

"Of course I'm beholden to you but you haven asked me for anything." The skin above the bridge of her nose wrinkled with difficulty at his accusation. "And of course I'm thankful," a strange grin away the ripple in her brow. "But I thanked you already."

Frodo nodded and put his palms out, "And I said 'you're welcome' and it's finished, right?"

Lauren ducked a chin and flushed just a touch. "Right." Her smile came back up for the next one he was going to throw at her, still trying to figure out why he was so upset about it.

Frodo dropped his hands and tried not to look so deeply at her face. "So there's only two other reasons why you would have pulled all the stops to lure me: you're a con artist and think you have something to gain. . . "

Her face brightened into laughter even if he was dead serious about it. "You are far from royalty, Frodo-"

"Or," he interrupted, "you were flirting with the wrong man," his stomach flipped and the power left his voice, "in which case I wish you would stop." 

Her humor was reeled in with sudden humbleness. Uncertain eyes tried to read him, and a flush of embarrassment came to her face.

He winced hard and he scrambled to save her feelings. "Lauren! You're probably married already!"

"How do _you_ know?" She spat in defense. "If I can't remember anybody, I don't have anybody to betray! And besides, all I did was make you supper! How does that qualify me as a trollop!?"

Frodo's eyes flashed wide, he was already shaking his head fervently. "I didn't call you a trollop."

The monster came out from behind the pretty face. "Think about what you're a accusing me of, Frodo!"

Frodo raised his palms for mercy. "That's not what I meant. And it wasn't just dinner."

She crossed her arms arrogantly. "Then what else was there?"

He fretted with the words. "Your hair and-" the bridge of his nose wrinkled, "the jasmine. . . "

Surprise crossed her eyes first, and then they warmed wildly at what he was saying.

"And the way you look at me." Frodo's breath escaped and left his shoulders slumped. _Good ahead, Frodo. Tell her right where all the chinks in your armor are so she can sting you that much faster._

She smiled wide with sympathy and fondness. Her voice sweetened as much as it softened. "Shall I stop looking at you then?"

"No." It was a ridiculous thought, but he said it because he couldn't pull his eyes away from her. He swallowed hard.

Lauren lifted her chin again and took one step to him. She kept his eyes but only to peer in them accusingly. "When men lose their ability to control themselves, they always seem to put the blame on the women. Now why is that?"

She was six inches closer but it amplified by miles. Frodo looked at all the parts of her face and grinned at her accusation. "Because it's all your fault," he said. 

She giggled a little at that. "So what you're _really_ saying," she stepped a tiptoe forward and lifted her chin to play seriousness, "is that I will no longer be in your poor graces as long as _you perceive_ that I'm not flirting with you?"

He was trapped in complete suspense over her next move. One step closer and she'd be nose to nose with him. Perhaps she was simply stepping within his reach as an invitation. He still had a hold of his faculties, thank goodness, but it would be a great deal easier if she would just go away like she offered. If he weren't so intoxicated by her closeness, he would have had a more animated reaction. Instead, he simply twitched a grin, "Yes."

Lauren frowned to consider his proposal, and then looked him in the eyes with a sparkly smile. She wanted a kiss almost as bad as he wanted to kiss her. It was obvious in her eyes. Frodo's face lightened. He took in a slow breath as he started to lower his face to her—

"It's settled then," she said brightly. She turned on her heals and began to march pertly away. Her hair whapped him in the face like a feather bola. It felt like she took a leg out from under his table just as he was finding his balance on it.

Frodo couldn't believe it. His eyes flailed, his teeth clenched, and his frustration bubbled over. It wasn't a conscious decision, he just gave up trying to figure her out and a split second of indiscretion slipped through. All this happened before she'd managed two steps down the hall, and it only took one lunge and a long arm to grab her by the forearm to swing her back around to him. The sheer inertia of his moves brought the front her body to bump up against the front of his. She bounced back with surprise, but she only got so far before his hands cradled her face and pulled her mouth into him.

All the fast moves came to a quick halt the moment his lips touched hers. The scent of sweet, warm flowers filled up his senses and the softness of her lips tickled him all the way to pit of his stomach. Her mouth trembled under him and her trapped breath swelled up her chest- that same chest he could colorfully visualize. He drank in the kiss like an instant addiction. The soft hair in his fingers and the shuddering breasts that hovered an inch from him poisoned his mind even further. 

When Frodo's eyes fluttered back open, Lauren's were still closed. Lashes fell against her dusk-colored cheeks. Her red mouth parted with trapped air.  

She looked so deliciously lovable.

Lauren's big eyes opened to him full of shock. Her face was so flushed that she looked like she'd been slapped on both cheeks. 

Frodo pulled back with a short breath and widened eyes. He stared fearfully down at her, at what he had done. His fingers took a long trip out of her hair just to get untangled so he could step back. "I shouldn't have done that." Frodo whispered tensely.

She started to nod in agreement at what it probably started, but bit her lower lip and started shaking her head. Her face was shocked and terrified and uncertain, but her eyes offered anything he could ask for, even though she didn't know exactly what that was.

Frodo was absolutely certain of her pureness now. But the end result was that Frodo became the dishonorable scallywag that pricked her innocence with his mal-intent, and it scared him witless that he could hardly convince himself to stop.

Frodo took a step backward and started to smile like he had gone insane, for it felt like he had. "No, I'm fairly certain that was a bad idea." He had the suddenly overwhelming desire to run away as fast as he could, but he had to pass her to get out of the house. 

Though pained and confused and now an arms reach away, her whisper still felt like a feather on his skin. "Frodo?"

"Stop." He stopped her before she said something he couldn't say 'no' to. He put his hands on the sides of her shoulders so he could keep her body from bumping into his again, and passionately pressed a kiss on her forehead as he turned them both around in the hall. He pulled away to look her in the eye, as stiff and mean looking as he had to be to do it, and finalized it once and for all. "You still might be married, Lauren."

Her brows slanted, pleading for that not to be true.

Frodo closed his eyes a moment, and that one instant without looking at her, he was able to focus just enough to operate. He let go, stepped back, and turned to trot to the front hall. He grabbed his brown coat on a quick trek out the door, and dashed off in the rain.

He hurried away from the houses even though no one was out, and marched a touch into the woods just to find shelter from a tree. He wiped the raindrops from his face and winced curses at himself. He stared in the air with pain in his eyes. He kicked the tree.

When thundering could be heard in the distance, he found his way to the stables and ducked into the horse-less stall. He found what he expected to find. Merry was relaxing against the wall, one leg out and one bent up, with a pipe in his hand and peace on his face.

Merry opened his eyes and understood Frodo's mood. He watched the other stomp in and slide down against the wall to sit next to him in the hay. Frodo slammed his eyes shut and knocked his head against the wood slat wall with a thump.

Merry took a long sideways glance at Frodo.

Frodo swallowed hard. "She blushed."

Merry nodded thoughtfully, puffed once on his pipe, and offered it over.

~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~

**_Frodo Winds Up for the Pitch_**

The thunderstorm never got close enough to see any lighting, and the rain had faded to an occasional drizzle before nightfall. It was cold though. The weather was still trying to decide if it was winter or spring, and his chin was shuddering by the time he made his way home. 

Lauren came to her feet the instant the door started to open. She looked like she was afraid that she was in trouble with him, wanting to go to him but knowing that it was a bad idea. She stayed where she was as he let himself in. Her fingers fiddled together nervously, and she let out a breath she seemed to have held since he he'd left.

Frodo took off his dripping wet cape and looked at her quizzically.

Her head tilted as she stuttered. "I was sca- I didn't know where you'd. . .  how long—." She took a deep inhale and recomposed herself, speaking slow and carefully chosen words. 

"I was concerned for your safety."

The corner of his mouth curled with appreciation. "I'm fine."

Lauren nodded deeply and forced her mouth to remain smileless. She turned tartly and moved quickly into the front room. "I'll warm up the fire."

He hooked his wet cape by the door and proceeded to strip his shirt. His voice was apathetic. "Thank you."

She stiffly kept him at her back as she poured in the firewood, but when she turned to reach for the matches, she saw a glimpse his bare torso out of the corner of her eye. 

Lauren's eyes flashed wide without even looking directly at him, and then slammed shut again to turn her back to him again. She scrambled for any excuse to leave the room. Her voice quivered behind the strength she deliberately put into it. "Perhaps I could fetch you some dry clothes." 

Frodo was warmed by her reaction so much that his face cracked a full smile. He hooked his wet shirt with his coat and stepped into the room to her back. "I'll do it myself." He put his hand on her shoulder blade, pushing a little as to keep her back to him as he passed by, just because it bothered her. She breathed easier when he did that, but he stopped before moving further down the hall. It would be easier to say this when he didn't have to look in her eyes. "We're leaving for Bree in the morning."

Her face lifted, she started to turn around but another momentary glimpse of the half-naked body reminded her not to. She stopped trying to turn, realized what was really going on, and lowered her head with rejection again.

He turned to move away. "I've made my decision," he said quietly.

Her head was bowed in sorrow. She nodded.

Frodo moved quickly back to the Master's bedroom. He dried off and got dressed so he could rejoin her for supper, but both of them stuffed away every bit of smile or glance for the rest of the evening and most of the next morning.

Pippin had brought up a cart and Merry brought out two horses. Sam and Rose were talking amongst themselves, and Frodo stepped out of his front yard to put a rolled pack in the otherwise empty cart. When all was ready, Rosie was a few paces down the hill with a blanket wrapped over her arms. Merry held the horse and Pippin leaned an elbow on the back of the cart. Sam glanced at Frodo. He was still at the cart with his back to Lauren as if stunned. 

Sam pressed his mouth and turned around. "This is your last chance, Lauren." He was friendly, but dead serious. "Do you have any recollection at all of your family name?" They all looked at her for an answer but everyone was prepared for whatever she said.

Her face winced that they still didn't trust her. She rubbed her forehead, a spot right behind the hairline. Her brows slanted, pleading at them to believe her. "No. I'm sorry." 

Sam sighed and glanced back at Frodo. 

Merry hung his arm from the horse's bridal. "What about their business? Do you remember water, or mountains, or buildings, or plains? Was the food sweet or salty? Anything would be a clue."

Lauren nodded in understanding and raised her fingers to touch her forehead again as she thought.

"What's wrong with your head?" Pippin snarled.

Lauren dropped her hand. "Nothing."

Merry and Sam exchanged glances. Frodo turned around to look. Pippin pushed away from the cart and stepped quickly up through the front yard to the porch. 

She tried to step back and raise her hand to protect herself, but Pippin stepped up taller and pushed her hand unceremoniously away so he could look at the hair on the top of her head. He first checked for fleas or mites, but her hair was clean of any of that. Then he lifted his fingers to move some of her hair out of the way, and his eyes widened. 

"What is it?" Sam asked.

Pippin let her go and turned. "She's got a big scar on her right temple, like she was hit with a stone." He held his hand out to Rose for the blanket, but Sam took it from his wife and tossed it over. Pippin grabbed it easily out of the air. "It's quite possible she was left for dead."

"In the river!?" Rosie exclaimed. "Who would go so far out of their way to dump a dead body in a harmless little Hobbit stream?"

Sam sighed so heavily his lip raspberried with the sheer force of it. 

Pippin shook out the blanket. "Doesn't matter really." He pulled the blanket around Lauren's shoulders and aimed her hand to clasp it at her collarbone. "Anyone so cruel to dump her like that doesn't deserve her." When she was suitably caped, he dropped his hands and smiled. "Finders keepers."

Lauren's smile flickered back at him, but she was still perplexed what precisely they had in mind. She looked to Frodo with fear, wanting his explanation or comfort, but he simply looked back at her with a small mouth and the weary sigh of duty. Pippin's careless phrase had turned his stomach inside out.

Pippin offered his arm to her, and she took it in with a deeper ripple in her forehead. 

Sam shrugged at her, explaining. "You're face is the only clue we've got, Lauren. Our only hope is that someone in Bree will recognize you."

She stepped tenderly out to the road and Pippin hooked his hands together to give her a step up. Sam helped her from the other side, gentlemanly aiding her into the back of the cart, only to climb up right behind her. Merry stepped around and climbed up to the driver's seat. Frodo avoided her eyes and climbed up to sit next o Merry so he could avoid her more. 

Lauren tucked the blanket around her shoulders and curled up to sit in the corner behind Merry. She stole a glance up to Frodo's other side, and he almost returned it, but decided not to.

Sam leaned far out of the cart to kiss Rosie on the lips. She giggled at something he whispered and promised to be back within the week. Merry whistled at the horses and flapped the reigns lightly. The cart jerked into motion. Rose blew Sam a kiss, and Pippin straightened his back, stuffing his hands in his pockets to watch them go. 

Sam was still on his knees and flicked a serious chin at Pippin. "Look after my girls."

Pippin nodded without a hint of alternate motives in his eye. Pippin would have checked on them from time to time even if Sam hadn't asked. He put out a palm for goodbyes. His eyes were on Lauren. "Good luck to you."

Lauren flashed a smile at his thoughtfulness and snuck her fingers out of the blanket to wave back. Sam settled in to lean against the same frontboard Lauren did. He lifted a knee to set his forearm on it but didn't bother trying to get any more comfortable than that. He and Lauren exchanged glances. Both smiled uncomfortably and settled in for a long silent ride.

It was hours before anyone said anything. Clouds filled the sky in the morning, but the breeze moved them along soon enough. The air was cold, and the sun was so far away it didn't help very much. The road moved through grassy meadows as often and as long as it did friendly woods. Lauren was wide eyed to watch everything until it got repetitive. Merry kept his eyes expressionless on the road in front of him, looking bored. Sam gazed off another direction as if daydreaming, and Frodo stared at and endless stream of difficult memories. 

He could still hear it whisper at him as if it was still happening, but he knew it was only his mind playing tricks on him. It was nothing but noiseless flashes and colorless sounds: Sam pleading eyes, Pippin crying out, sharp rock under his blistered feet, Smeagol's missing teeth. . .  He saw the spot in the field where Sam had stopped walking and mentioned how he had never been further away from home. 

The world was so hauntingly larger now.

"How old am I?" Lauren suddenly asked. Her head was turned to Sam, but her tone was asking all of them.

Sam was polite, "That's not customarily a question women want an honest answer to."

"I just noticed something odd." She offered, "Something that maybe a clue."

Frodo half-turned to her. "What is it?"

"Let me not say just yet, save for I feel like there's a difference in age."

"You look the same age as us," Sam said.

"And how old is that?"

Frodo turned to look back at her again. "Young enough to still be a maid, but old enough to have become a respectful matron."

"But not a child?" She clarified.

Frodo glanced back and shook his head barely. "No." He yanked his gaze out to the landscape again, "You're definitely not a child."

"What was this clue?" Sam asked.

She settled in and explained it to Sam. "Well, I thought what about what Merry said before, about finding things in my mind that maybe familiar, landscape and all that."

"Yeah."

"And I realized one of the things that made me feel so comfortable in Frodo's house was that I felt like I'd grown up once and for all. No one was treating me like a child anymore."

Sam mouth was already parted with understanding, "You feel taller."

Lauren nodded. "What does that mean?"

"It means you're not a Hobbit."

"It means she didn't live with Hobbits," Merry corrected without turning around. "She's too small to be anything else." Then he remembered. "And too hairless to be a dwarf."

Frodo glanced back at her. "That's why the doctor couldn't find out anything about you in Whitfurrows. It's a Hobbit village."

Sam added, "It also explains why you didn't know what a Hobbit was when you first woke up."

Her face wrinkled sadly, "Does that help?"

Merry shrugged sympathetically. "It just means you're not from around here."

Lauren's hope dwindled from her eyes. 

Sam brightened his tone, "It's a start though. What else feels odd to you?"

Lauren kept working her mind to think up anything that might have been helpful and absentmindedly touched her head as she did it. Sam worked with her on the clues, adding words to things she only could describe, or clarifying her explanation with things he already knew in reality. Merry and Frodo peeped in from time to time, but not often. Sam was doing well enough on his own to get her thoughts going in the right directions.

She felt more familiar with plains than mountains, woods, or oceans, but that could have been because of the unplanted fields around the shire. She noted that she had a strange desire to cook in Frodo's house and already had ideas on how to make use of the vegetables in his garden. But she also felt she should know how to sew, but when she borrowed needle and thread from Rosie to mend her dress, she had terrible troubles with it. The most revealing thing she mentioned was that she felt Frodo's house was rather short and empty. She kept feeling like there was a way to go up.

"What would be upstairs?" Sam asked.

Lauren thought on this. "More girls," her face twisted a little.

"Sisters!?" Merry exclaimed brightly and returned Frodo's glance. "Dream come true."

Frodo smiled at Merry's boisterousness about it, and glanced warmly back at Lauren, happy that some things were finally coming to mind for her.

Whitfurrows looked hardly different from Hobbiton. They only stayed long enough to grab a sack of pekagranetes and find a fairly clean outhouse, and then they were on the same road to leave it again. 

Frodo had taken the reigns for the afternoon half of the journey and Sam sat up on the bench next to him. Lauren stayed in her same spot but folded the blanket to soften her seat and leaned against the side of the cart so she could easily see Sam and Merry when she spoke to them. 

Merry introduced her to the new fruit. It took work to get into it. Because the men up front had to hold on with at least one hand as they went down the road, Merry taught Lauren how to pull the shell off to get to the tiny fruit nibbles inside so they could both pass it in edible forms to the men up front.

"It looks like a purple pomegranate." She said as she worked the first small handful out of the fruit.

"It's the pomegranate's evil twin," Sam explained. "Pekagranates are much sweeter."

Lauren reached up to hand Frodo some meaty seeds and grinned. "What makes it the eviler of the two?"

"It's so sweet," Merry said, turning to look at her, "That you often eat more than you ought."

Frodo tucked his hand back behind him so she could hand more up to him. Gentle fingers brushed against his palm as she poured a few into his hand. It was the first time they'd touched since yesterday in the hall and affected him accordingly. 

Merry explained his favorite fruits to her and Lauren talked about some of the other things that could be done with blueberries. She rattled off instructions to bake a pie without realizing the depth of her own knowledge. 

A minute later, she reached up another handful and again let her fingertips brush on his palm. He was tempted to glance over his shoulder to see if she had a flirtatious sparkle in her eyes, but he held fast. 

He listened to the two of them ramble on about food behind him. His hand tucked backwards for more, and Lauren's fingers did it again. This time, his fingers quickly held hers after he'd grabbed the seeds. His thumb brushed twice against the back of her pinky as if to acknowledge or agree with the message she sent. Her fingers squeezed him back as if for a little hug, and dribbled reluctantly away from his hand when he let her go.

He didn't reach back again, but something about it made him realize, even down to the pit of his stomach, that her actions were genuine. Lauren liked him for the man he was. The kiss was real. Her blush belonged to him. Frodo's throat relaxed and he fell into a daydream about what could have happened if she stayed.

"What put that on your face?" Sam quietly asked his widely grinning friend. The two in the back were so enthralled in their talk of sweet foods they didn't hear the question.

Frodo knew she couldn't see, so he didn't hide his smile. He shook head lightly and blew it off, "Nothin'." He popped the last few seeds into his mouth and started sucking on them, but his happy face didn't fade all that quickly.

It was dusk when they reached Bree. The wind blew a dry, chilling breath across the meadow and rouged up their noses and faces. Although Hobbits were not uncommon to see, the city was uneasily taller. Lauren looked as innocently frightened as a toddler as she took it all in with wide eyes. 

It was a noisy; even the side streets that had nothing but houses still had people hanging out and laughing on the walks and porches. The markets were just closing up for the night, and tried to sell to the late patrons on the street. Bars and brothels were just warming up. The nightlife of the city seemed to have an economy of its own. 

Frodo drove the cart directly to a boarding house well-known with the Shirefolk as safe, friendly and fair to their kind. It didn't have a kitchen, pity, but it did have cozy rooms with fireplaces to ward off the late-winter's chill. The four of them unpacked in a room, warmed up a little, and left again to find a place to eat. 

On a whim, Frodo stopped again at the innkeeper and asked him if Lauren looked familiar.

The innkeeper gave her a good look. "Not sure. Why do you ask?"

Frodo gave the man a boiled down version of the situation, but it was enough to get the man going. "I heard a tale of a halfling girl from somewhere in town had died a few weeks ago. But I couldn't give you any details of it. Perhaps you should visit the Sheriff in the morning."

It was what Frodo had planned already. He nodded, Sam thanked him, and the four moved on to find supper.

~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~

**_Mrs. Byanka_**

The larger lodge was loud, sweaty and boisterous. They managed a table in a corner, away from the festivities, and Frodo felt the need to make Lauren sit in the corner as if he intended the three of them to protect her or keep her from escaping.

The serving lady came around to offer them the evening meal, chicken and gravy on mashed potatoes, but told them they'd have to go to the bar for their own ale. Merry hopped up to fetch the beer and Sam turned to lean his back against the wall and rolled his head over at Lauren. "Anything look familiar?"

She looked out over the bar and nodded distantly, "I've been in places like this before. Not _this_ one, but _like_ this one."

Frodo was surprised they'd find a clue this quickly, but the truth tugged at his heart as painfully as her expression remembered it.

"The tall ceilings and rafters. The noise and the smell of beer." She curled her nose. "I hate it, but I know it."

Sam nodded with disappointment in his eyes. 

Frodo looked down at his crossed arms. "I think you're probably a kitchen's cook somewhere. Maybe for a lady's boarding house or an orphanage."

Her eyes went scared, "An orphanage?"

"A kitchen's cook good keep for a maid," Frodo pointed out. "Any good cook has a lot of power in the house."

Merry came back with four half-pints of ale and carefully put them down. "I asked the tender. He remembers who lost that Hobbit girl. He's sending someone to the house in question."

"Fantastic." Sam lifted his brows, and looked at Lauren. "This is looking up quickly."

"Save that I don't know anything about where I'm going!"

Sam grinned with a friendly gesture. "It's all right. We're not going to toss you off to just anybody."

Lauren seemed relieved by that, but clearly wished the promise would have come from somebody else at the table. The meal was flavored mostly by the gravy and pepper, but filled their tummies with snug warmth. After the meal was over and the men stayed for a second round of ale, a large woman was seen glancing over to them from her quiet talk to the bartender. 

She was normal height for mankin, but had big hips and big breasts. She had dark makeup on her face and her black hair was done up with curls, but the black and white dress she wore was simple and clean. She came over slowly and smiled when she managed Lauren's attention. "Lauren, my child, it's really you!"

Lauren stiffened. "I don't remember you."

The woman stepped to the end of the table, "You don't remember you're Aunty Emma" She seemed disappointed. "Frank mentioned that you'd had troubles with your memory. S'allright, luv. I'm sure it'll all come back to you as soon as we get home." She turned her chin. "Tell me child, what happened to you? You ran off crying and we hadn't seen a sign of you since. We thought you were dead."

Frodo exchanged stiff glances with Sam and both looked to Lauren as she responded. 

Lauren sat forward. "Why was I crying?"

"You'd served stale bread to Timothy, my dear, and he got a little tart with you that night. He loves you dearly y'know, wouldn't lay a finger on you, but he works so hard in that carpenter shop he deserves a little better than stale bread with his supper."

Lauren stiffened even further. "Who's Timothy?"

Aunty Emma's face flashed with surprise, "Why, he's your husband, my dear. Do you not remember him?"

Lauren's fearful eyes flicked to Frodo, and Frodo carefully slid guarded eyes back. He pressed his mouth and shrugged an uncomfortable grin at her.

Aunty Emma continued. "The two of you rent a room in my boarding house on the north side of town. Savin' up for your own place, he says. So you can start putting out a bunch of babies."

Lauren looked back at Aunty Emma again. "I don't remember you."

Aunty Emma studied Lauren with a smile and finally nodded. "I'll see if I can find your husband and send him over."

"We're staying at the Hobbit lodge across the street," Frodo told her.

Aunty Emma nodded. "Timothy will be so happy to see you again."

The large woman left, pausing to thank the tender with a kiss on the cheek and waved "toodles" to the other men in the bar before disappearing out the door.

"She seemed nice enough," Sam said optimistically.

"She talks too much," Merry added.

"She's not the one I'm worried about," Frodo muttered.

Lauren sighed loudly like she was about to cry and put her face in her palms. "Babies?!"

Frodo felt it in his stomach. He slid his half-empty mug away. "Come on. Let's get you cleaned up before your husband arrives."

Lauren washed her hands and face but she wasn't really that dirty to begin with, and Frodo bought a strip of yellow ribbon from the last street vendor so she could tie up her hair. Frodo wasn't stiff or melancholy as he sat and watched the floor, he was just quiet. Sam took in Frodo's mood and asked Merry out to find a warm spot in the cold wind so they could share a pipe.

Frodo sat at the head of a bed, using the headboard as a backrest, and let her bounce nervously about the room as much as she liked. He intended to be there for her to lean on one last time, but it wasn't as easy as he intended. 

Lauren paced the room and shook her hands in the air as if she had slammed all her fingers in a door. "Don't eat the hen with the auburn feathers on her back." She babbled, "Not until she's on her dying days. She's the mother of the chicks. Her name is Maela."

Frodo smiled at the thought of naming a hen and making it a pet. "Maela," he echoed. "Sure. I'll be good to Maela."

She paced the other direction. "And the nightgown Rosie lent me. It's folded under the covers on the bed. I should have washed it. But I didn't know I was leaving."

Frodo nodded gently. The cleanliness of the nightgown was irrelevant to everyone but her.

"Thank Grandma Bolgers for me, even though she didn't really do anything. She'll appreciate the appreciation."

Frodo climbed off the bed. "Lauren." 

She sucked in a sigh and stuffed her tears into her throat. He grabbed her flapping hands out of the air and held them in front of her, just to keep them still. "It's all right."

"I'm scared," tears started welling up.

"I know," he said quietly and pulled her in to his chest. He put his chin against her ear and gave her a warm hug for his sake as much as it was for hers. "It's going to be all right."

She wrapped her arms around his torso and tucked her face into his neck. She sighed to enjoy the momentary relief but her shoulders shuddered.

"It's just hound dogs," he whispered in a sad smile.

Despite her sniffle, she flashed a smile into his shoulder. She held him like a friend she'd have forever. "Kind of like your camping accident?"

Frodo chuckled in her ear, gave her a good long squeeze and pulled away. He looked at her with the same smile of friendship, squeezed her hands, and then let her go. "I'll miss you," he admitted. 

"If I'm here, you could always visit from time to time." She offered with a hopeful shrug.

Frodo grinned wisely and shook his head. "That's probably not a good idea, Lauren."

She sucked the truth right out of his eyes and her deep dark eyes glowed like a breeze on smoldering coals. 

A quiet knock sounded on the door and Sam poked his head in, "They're here."

She inhaled stiffly but kept Frodo's gaze. "Thank you," she said, "For everything."

"Your welcome," he mouthed deliberately and stepped back to direct her through the door first.

Emma elbowed Timothy to pay attention.

Timothy would have had to duck to get in through the Hobbit door, but he was short for a grown Man. He was decently handsome, short, wavy brown hair and a pointed nose over a slim face. And his hazel eyes were full of relief when they fell on her. "Lauren, my darling!" Timothy stepped out to take her up by the arms, but Lauren stepped behind Frodo, and Sam closed the gap between their shoulders to protect her. 

Timothy paused in his step and moved back a little. "Oh yes, you're memory. Emma told me."

Sam lifted his chin, "Would you mind showing us some sort of proof that Lauren is yours."

Timothy flashed a smile and bowed his head obediently, "Of course, darling." He looked back just as Emma brought up a dress and a folded shawl. "Emma noticed your dress was in rags, so we brought a change of clothes for you, Lauren. If they fit you, that's proof enough isn't it?"

Emma leaned over a little, "Wouldn't want to have you running around looking like poor Shirefolk, now would we?"

In a dark spot on the lawn, Merry puffed in the shadows and watched the exchange, but that comment made his face twitch with insult. 

Lauren reached over Sam and Frodo's shoulders to take it from them. "I suppose that's proof enough."

Frodo glanced back. 

"Excuse me." She muttered and dipped quickly back into the room alone.

As the girl was gone, Timothy and Emma kept talking to each other. Timothy overflowed with relief and happiness that his little woman was discovered. "And who can I thank for such heroism?"

"I'm Samwise Gamgee. He's Frodo Baggins." 

Timothy's face went pale for a split second, but his face forced a charming smile again. He bowed deeply. "My deepest thanks to you both."

Lauren stepped out in a simple, dark blue wool dress. It was in decent shape, long to the ankles and wrists, had a ribbon lace up the bodice, and fancy trimmings around the neck. The shawl was black and knitted more for decoration than warmth, but the important part was that the clothes fit her well.

Timothy's smiled warmed again. "Lauren, my sweet. You look darling."

Lauren stepped out, in front of Frodo this time. She exchanged glances with him and stepped bravely to Timothy. Her head topped out no higher than his throat. "If you please, tell me my family name?"

Timothy grinned a beat and blurted, "Byanka. You are Mrs. Timothy Byanka, also known as my bonnie Lauren."

Lauren sighed once and nodded. "All right." She looked back at Sam and Frodo looking much less scared and unsure than she did before.

"Good luck," Sam told her.

Frodo smiled bitter-sweetly. . .  and Lauren stepped off with them, glancing longingly back at him one last time before she disappeared into the street. 

They stood there a long minute.

Sam reached to look around at Frodo's expression. "You okay, Frodo?"

Frodo took a moment, but he nodded. 

Lauren looked to be in safe hands. Perhaps tomorrow he'd find where she was just to check on her safety, but Timothy Byanka looked all right and glad to have her back. Real life wasn't the horror she feared it to be.

As for Frodo, he had hardly felt the weight of the Ring for a month. She could make him smile, she could make his heart beat like a frightened rabbit, she could make him think about the things grown men are supposed to think about. She reminded him there was just another Hobbit under the layers of traumatized 'hero', and that's exactly what he needed to be reminded of to get on with his life. 

Frodo nodded again and turned with a bittersweet smile to his best friend. "I'm all right, Sam." He said sincerely. "Thank you."

~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~


	2. Part 2 Pippin

**_Liquor, Leaf and Ladies – Kesselia Banta_**

**_Part 2 - Pippin_**

"A fool. . .   but an honest one." Pippin's in trouble with her more often than he's not and conveniently yanks out his secret weapon to make it all better, but the old method stops working when it comes time to talk about houses and babies. Enter Bailey: a woman brandishing a leash and a wink that threatens to tear Peter Pan from his faithful shadow. Meanwhile, Frodo continues to dig himself deeper into trouble.

Hobbits and Brothels

A Man Stakes his Claim

He Never Came Home

Does this make me look fat?

Sneaking Out

Pippin's Midnight Bottle

Master Likes Us

The Power of Pippin's Grin

Ball and Chain

The Path Peregrin Took

The Other Ring

_*** Part 2 also includes copyrighted song lyrics by Billy Squire.***_

_~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~_

**_Hobbits and Brothels_**

Frodo shadowed Sam all the next day while the man went shopping for a list of supplies written by his wife. Several bolts of cotton were the most important on the list and the first retrieved, but there were a dozen other things too: spices, thread, cucumber seed, flint, and so forth. Frodo only went browse. He hadn't expected to have so much time with nothing to do on the trip. They met Merry later on in the afternoon. He had enjoyed a little fun and games on his own. He sported two brand new bags of fresh tobacco, a big bottle of sour mash, and a little bottle of blueberry cordial that must have cost a few shiny ones. 

They moved back to relax on the grass outside the lodge and sipped on sour mash and smoked as they talked about stuff that didn't matter. Frodo was chuckling again (thank goodness that stuck) Sam was displeased with the prices of everything, and Merry was wiggling his brows making noises about wanting to visit a house full of wayward ladies.

He tried to convince Frodo to go with him, but Frodo looked up at the evening stars with a far away smile in his eyes. He shook his head thoughtfully. "No. That's not what I want." He sent a grin to Merry, "but thanks for thinking I would."

Merry shrugged it off and offered the same to Sam just to see Sam decline with a fervent grumble. It was worth a bit of a laugh. Merry turned his pipe over to Frodo to finish, and pushed off. "See you in the morning."

Merry's hands were stuffed into his front pockets and his hairy forearms held back the tails of his burnt orange coat. He whistled as he strolled down the lanes looking for some pleasant trouble to get into, stepping around drunken blobs of men without a care and took in the various sights for a smallish blonde. Soon, he was singing under his breath and making it up as he went along. 

_Blueberry wine; so blueberry fine._

_A blueberry baby and a blueberry lady._

_And I wouldn't say maybe,_

_If blueberry was mine._

 He popped into the first brothel he saw but they didn't have what he was looking for, so he left just as quickly. The next one was several blocks further up the lane. It was loud and friendly and had plenty of ladies hanging from the balcony trying to bring in the business. Merry stepped in looking as tall as if he thought he were Man-sized and asked the first lady that winked at him. "Do yeh have any Hobbits?"

The blonde opened her mouth to nod seductively at him. "I'm twice the woman she is." She licked her lips hungrily at Merry.

Unaffected, he crossed his arms at his chest. "You're also twice the work."

The harlot flattened her mouth at him. Her gaze was already searching through the front windows for someone she could flirt with. "There's a new one upstairs. Last room on the left."

Merry looked up the stairs and thanked her before moving that way.

The blonde pointed behind him and teased his innocence, "You have to pay Aunty Emma first, luv."

Merry's expression darkened. He turned to the large woman with heavy make up and fancy black hair. "Oh really?"

He took a long second to dig into his pockets and take in the situation before stepping up to Aunty Emma. The Madame was rambling on and on, talking with a regular who was apparently already finished having his ego stroked for the evening. Merry hoped he wouldn't be recognized, dug out a few more coins than necessary, and stepped up to a lady that was sitting in a chair, not far behind the house Madame he was trying to avoid.

He looked the young prostitute in the eyes, an uncommon experience for most of them, and flicked his head toward Emma. "She looks to be busy at the moment. Here's an extra if you can give it over."

The prostitute tucked a smile as if to blush, but the only blush she had was what was painted there. Still, it got him his pass. Merry quickly moved up the stairs and down the hall to the last door on the left.

He didn't knock only because he didn't have time. Aunty Emma was loudly waving 'toodles' and turning to greet other patrons. Merry slipped quickly into the room and closed the door behind his back. 

Lauren was sitting stiffly at the vanity. Her face was red with terror and tears. Her hair was rolled up with curls and ribbons, and her face was painted to the point of unpleasant. She was bound up in black stockings and a short, red silk skirt that was so petty-coated it almost went horizontal. She had a matching black and red bodice pushing up her breasts until they puffed out the top. 

She turned with disgust to see what had come for her, but her face flashed as if the gods had decided to let her live. "Merry!" She shot off the stool and wrapped her arms around his shoulders as if he a bonefide hero with no other intent than to save the damsel in distress. "I was afraid you'd all gone home."

Merry scratched his ear and winced a little, but patted her on lightly the shoulder with the other hand. "It's all right, luv." His face ripple a little, "We wouldn't let you down." He winced, but she didn't see it.

She stepped back, "Where's Frodo?"

Merry tilted his head with intense confusion. "What happened your alleged husband?"

Lauren's mouth twitched and tightened. "Emma paid him as soon as we were away from the lodge. She paid the tender at the pub too. There used to be a Hobbit here, but she died of cholera." She looked to Merry with wizened eyes. "She claims she did me a favor. She said it is good work for a husbandless woman." Lauren shook her head at him. "I may have no recollection of what I did before, but I _know_ it wasn't this."

Merry had to smile sadly. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye and shook his head, "No, I wouldn't think so."

"Where's Frodo?" She asked again, with almost a whisper this time. Her eyes were terrified, but now the thick parts of her eyebrows had tucked angrily down over them as well. Lauren was a fledgling preparing to battle for her soul. She just didn't want to have to. "I want Frodo."

Merry closed his mouth and nodded again. He'd seen that look before, in someone else's eyes, but hadn't realized what put it there. It was clear Lauren hadn't been visited by a man yet; she was still too terrified it was _about_ to happen. Nonetheless, she was a far leap wiser tonight than she was yesterday, and that was unfortunate. She was perfect for Frodo's fancy the way she was before, in Merry's opinion. 

He took his orange coat off, wrapped it around her shoulders and gathered the collar under her chin, covering her naked shoulders and enforced cleavage. "I promise you'll be back to your blushing self and in his care before the night is out."

She tried to smile at him. "Is he worried about me?"

Merry stepped around her to take a look out the window. "Well, I'm not at liberty to say." He pushed up the window, stuck his head out into the night and looked all the way around. "But if I could say it without saying anything," he stood tall and turned to her again. "I would say it loud and clear."

Lauren's eyes warmed. 

"Take them useless shoes off." Merry fumbled with the waistline of his trousers. "Where's your dress?" 

Lauren easily yanked the little girl shoes off her feet and slipped her arms into the coat. "They packed it away." Wary eyes watched him take the suspenders off his pants. 

In an instant, a practical joke, there for the taking, flooded his mind with the funniest of images, but he would likely be the only one to think it hilarious for years to come. 

Merry grinned, and tied the suspenders together to make one long strap and tied one end of that to the nearest bedpost. "Hold tight onto my shoulders."

"What if I lose my grip?"

"Don't lose your grip."

Lauren firmly tucked in her chin and wrapped her arms around his neck. She used her knees also to pin herself at his hips. The girl radiated with discomfort to form such an unladylike position with him, but as soon as he was out the window and carefully groping for foot holds, her need for survival washed propriety away. 

 There were intense noises coming from the nearest window. Lauren kept her eyes shut tight as she clung to his back. Merry silently made his way down the strap until he had a foot hold on the trim to the first floor. With that, he attained better control, and had an easier time to shift left, positioning them above a short wood shed.

"Jump down." He whispered.

Lauren looked first and tried to breathe courage into her lungs, but it only came out in small, frightened gasps.

"When you hit the roof, bend your knees and roll off of it. You may get bumped when you fall to the ground, but you won't break anything that way."

"I understand." 

"Ready?"

"Yes." She sounded better now.

"On three. One. . .  two. . .  three. . .  _jump_."

Lauren let go of him and fell. A loud hollow thump sounded on the woodshed, splintering a single plank, and then she tumbled to the ground. She grunted and dust clouded up. It looked and sounded clumsy, but Merry didn't hear any loud cracks of bone.

Suddenly, Emma could be heard in the room above, yelling angrily at the woman who had taken Merry's money. "I told you I had to see anyone that came up for the hobbit! Bloody hell! She's already gone!"

"Damn." Merry huffed, closed his eyes, and jumped.

Merry shattered two of the shed's roof planks and as he rolled off of it, his weight yanked out and flipped over three of them. It was a horribly loud noise. Lauren grunted in pain when Merry landed on top of her. "Oops."

They were still trying to figure how who's arms and legs were who's when Emma's head to poke out the window and flare at them both. "You come back here, you little slut! I paid good money for you!"

Neither of them paused to pretend they heard her. Merry grabbed Lauren by the hand and yanked her up as he pushed to his feet, and Lauren scrambled onto her shaky legs, holding his hand just as tightly and keeping up as best she could. 

They came around the corner of the building already in a full run, and Emma was shouting for her musclemen to catch them out the front door. Merry dragged her under a horse's belly to evade the large captors. Their feet were quick enough to speed them passed the busy front porch of the brothel for all to see the action and then the musclemen dodge around the stupefied onlookers to jump into a long legged sprint after them.

There were gasps as they sped by, jumped steps, and dodged elbows. Horses reared. People cussed at the rudeness of their dash. Pints got knocked into friends. Pursuers yelled to the population that the two were steeling. Then bold men started trying to get in their way too.

Lauren kept a firm grip on Merry's hand and clutched the coat over her breasts with the other. Merry stomped on feet that got in his way. He tripped one and then ran right over the man's belly and head. (Lauren ran around.) They rounded another corner and jostled a whole new street of people, but this time, Merry started yelling. "Frodo! Sam!"

Frodo jerked his head from the grass at the distant noise.

Sam stood so he could see the street. _Another fight?_ His eyes went wide as his feet dashed into motion. "Dag nab it, Merry!" 

Merry could and would take on a handful of them by himself, but not with a lady to protect at the same time. He pulled Lauren in and wrapped an arm around her shoulders to squeeze between two passing carts. "Gamgee! _Baggins_!"

"Baggins?" A man echoed.

Lauren glanced back at that. 

"By the powers! It _is_ him," a lady said.

Lauren looked ahead. 

Frodo and Sam stomped quickly forward in the street with mean faces. The Hobbit innkeeper pounded out with a short sword drawn. Two other visiting Hobbits stepped out as well, just to add to the numbers. Merry didn't slow down until they got passed the line that was forming, but screeched to a halt as soon as Lauren was on the safe side of a long line of men. He swiveled around to face his chasers, looking like he'd instantly gone rabid.

The three musclemen slowed to a stop. Onlookers collected behind them, and soon, Aunty Emma bounced her big body up, getting ready to exaggerate what Merry stole, but there was only a shaking, half-naked virgin hunched by the wall behind them. It would have been bad public relations. 

The innkeeper took point, raising his sword and his chin at the growing collection of Mankin. "This isn't a fight you want to be in, lads."

"Ignore him," one whined. "Their Shirefolk."

"Yeah," a wiser one returned. "But that one is the Ring Bearer."

A hush fell across the crowd.

The slow, gray haired innkeeper stepped out and pointed his short sword slowly at each large body that was poised for attack. The enemies knew what they needed to know. "You take a good look here ladies and gentlemen. The men behind me may be halflings to you, but they've put down bigger monsters at worse odds. . . 

I'm the only one among us that needs a sword kill you. And I'll do it too, just out of your lack of respect." He was exaggerating of course, but it was a nice touch. The moronic Mankin seemed to believe it anyway.

The innkeeper kept turning, side-stepping a little so he could look up to each one in the eye. "But think about what's really going on here. They're protecting an innocent girl." He pointed the sword at Aunty Emma's nose. "_You_ are just after a quick coin." The innkeeper lowered his voice to speak directly at Emma, "Is it really worth _you_ dying over?"

The silence fell hard. There were three musclemen out front with another seven or so full grown men who'd come to the call of 'thief'. Six more elders and ladies had emerged from the pub to see all the commotion, and a sprinkle of others were rushing down the street just to see the fight. Aunty Emma's eyes were stuck in a stare down with the innkeeper as long as it took to realize that, in this one, she would not be spared simply because she was a woman. 

Her eyes flicked to Frodo, for that was the direction she really felt the ice coming from. Her mouth opened and she took a step back. "You are _still_ cursed, Frodo Baggins."

She touched another on the back of the shoulder as she stepped back again, but pointed at Frodo to distract everyone from the fact that she was yielding. "Look at the evil in his eyes!" 

Frodo only glared at her.

The muscleman glanced at her and stepped back at her silent order.

"There's still traces of that Ring in him, I tell you!" Aunty Emma's garish voice was loud and accusing, but she and her men were backing up. "You should have died with it, Baggins!_ You should have died!_"

Another waved a hand at them as if the Hobbits weren't worth it. The last flicked a chin at Merry as he turned around, "Coward."

Merry launched three long steps to him, jumped into the air, and tackled the six-footer, yanking him swiftly to the ground. The wave of people swept back a pace and grew stronger at the same time. Sam stomped up to peal Merry off, but Merry got in a few, good, blood-spraying punches before Sam yanked him away by the collar. 

Merry snarled as he stepped back. "Lucky bastard."

The guy got up, spat blood at Merry, and moved off. "Stupid Hobbits."

Frodo shook his head at it all and nodded to the innkeeper. "How can we thank you," he sighed.

The innkeeper smiled and dropped the flat of his short sword on his own shoulder. "Call it even."

Frodo grinned with half his mouth and turned back to the lodge with the rest of them.

She came out of nowhere. She plunged into him before he could blink. Her arms wrapped her around his shoulders by the sheer inertia of her speed. She squeezed him so hard she picked herself up off the ground. It was only natural to wrap his arms around her waist with such relief that he lifted her just as much.

Frodo tucked his patient sigh into her hair. She stank of cheap perfume and makeup. She was fully crying by the time she pulled away, trying to tell him what had happened and what she was scared of, but Frodo's eyes fell from her painted face to her naked shoulders. He only heard enough to explain the sight of her body under the dark wool coat. White breasts puffed to escape the tight, silky little clothes. As his hands tried to get away, they left the safety layer of the coat and came dangerously close to her body.

Palms froze in air, poised to wrap around soft extremities that weren't his to grab. It took conscious commands from his mind to reach for the coat's collar instead. He pulled it closed around her neck with both hands. 

He sighed stiffly and looked her deeply in the eyes. It was a bittersweet feeling. He was glad to see her again and feel that flutter she always slipped into his stomach, but she'd been through a great deal and an adventure that all of them could have done without.

The bitter part was that they were at the beginning again about Lauren's identity. And now Frodo had a visual permanently burned into his mind of silken under things and a wide open neck that fit snuggly in with the memory of her white breasts, pink nipples, and blushing kiss.

The butterflies in his stomach multiplied tenfold; and yet would continue to go unfed.

"Let's get you inside."

_~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~_

**_A Man Stakes his Claim_**

She had been wounded in the fall. A two inch wide scrape down the side of her calf, complete with a dozen splinters, was reddened and seeping blood. Water and needle were fetched, and the innkeeper's wife supplied a wide dress for her. The stockings were shredded at the feet and calves already, but the other silky things, hair ties, and vanity contraband were removed and sacked for selling the next day. She washed her face, getting off most of the makeup and cut off a piece of hose from the stockings to tie back her hair with a simple knot even if the hard curls still graced her hair in a few places.

Sam kept the room lit and warm, including a candle he held at the sight. Merry sat at the bed like a short table, needle in one hand and a small ankle in the other. . .  and Frodo sat next to her. He leaned his back against the headboard and held her firm to his chest and neck, whispering comfort into her forehead each time she flinched.

As Merry worked, the men reviewed the evening as it happened, sharing clues and suspicions as the night went along, and quickly figured out how they were targeted, approached and conned so easily. Lauren filled in the rest of the mystery with what she'd over heard from Emma and the other girls. Apparently, Aunty Emma had in mind to fill a gap in the market. Hobbit prostitutes were hard to come by. Not only would Lauren help her serve all of the Hobbit men in town, she would also serve as those who preferred young girls. Emma figured she had it made even if Lauren wasn't originally willing because, as soon as Lauren was spoiled, no one but a brothel house would want her anymore. 

As far as the details of her stay, her face flushed a little, unwilling to repeat or describe the things she heard or saw, save for the hard-throated knowledge that Merry came 'just in time.'

Frodo closed his eyes with a thankful sigh for that.

It took a good hour before all the splinters were extracted. And when Merry finally put her foot down to nod at Frodo that it was done, Lauren was still buried in his shoulder, exhausted and sighing out tiny sobs from time to time. Sam put the fire down to coals, Merry put the candles out, and both tucked themselves in beds without stripping any further than shirt and suspenders. 

Frodo remained still. He held her safely until she fell completely asleep and was certain to be deep in dream. Frodo lay her gently down on the bed, tucked her in with a blanket, and put his own body down in a different bed. 

He wasn't sure why, but he needed to have his back to her. Everyone else was in deep sleep, but Frodo lay awake for a while trying to figure out what to do next. Clearly, she wasn't leaving as soon as he needed her to. He would care for her as long as it took; there was no question in that. Unless he completely lost control of his need to reproduce, he would keep her in food and clothes and a place to sleep. And there was sure to be an interesting mission to find her family, but Frodo finally accepted it wasn't going to be quick enough for his naked soul. 

The next morning, Frodo sent her out to find a dress shop to trade her spoils for a dress more suitable for a lady. He asked Merry to go along as well just to be the muscle behind her so that she wasn't ignorantly had by prices or Aunty Emma's discontented henchmen. 

His visit to the sheriff was actually his first stop, and though he was at the office for hours, nothing substantial was produced. There were no rumors or clues about a halfling girl going missing in the area. And anyone that was going to go through such means to just dump her could have saved themselves the trouble just by selling Lauren to Aunty Emma _et al_ outright.

As for Aunty Emma's underhanded behavior, there was nothing the sheriff could do and truth be told, didn't really want to. Ill practice, yes, but illegal, no. Frodo had willingly turned over Lauren's care to Emma, and Lauren willingly walked away. What happened after that was personal business between Lauren and Emma. Despite its immoral properties, Emma provided a valuable service to the city – prostitution could not be eliminated, it could only be controlled, contained, and supervised. Aunty Emma did that. 

Frodo found that street vendor again, the one from which he bought the yellow ribbon (which was now lost at the brothel), but this time he looked over the options for another idea. He found a necklace of hemp and decorated beads of bone. It was fairly pretty, but its prettiness was not its purpose. The beauty of it was that the centerpiece was a ring of bone about the size she would fit on her pinky. It was the perfect token, so Frodo bought it.

By midday, all had returned to the inn once more. Merry pulled up the cart and Sam loaded his many goods into the back. Lauren was smiling and twirled happily to show off her new pine green dress, long-skirt and long-sleeved, warm and simple, new and pretty. She'd even tied up her hair with a new ribbon, but this time, she was dressing up for herself, which was just fine with him. 

Frodo climbed up the little grass hill behind their lodge room to where Lauren was standing proud, swinging her arms until they wrapped around her waist like a maypole. He wrapped his fingers around the hemp necklace in his pocket and even slipped the tip of his pinky in the tiny bone ring at the end of it. 

"How do you like it?" She prodded.

This was a perfect idea and already an incredible relief.

He stopped face to face and looked her in the eye. "It's beautiful."

She didn't flicker; she just flushed with warmth.

"Which is exactly why I have to do this."

The sparkle faded from her eyes. "Do what?"

He stuffed both hands in his trouser pockets and locked his arms. "You know I'll take care of you until we find your family and obviously that task is not going to be quick or easy, so I'm going to do us both a favor."

She shifted on her feet. The smile was gone.

"You're going to _wear_ a favor," he said firmly. "And we're going to pretend it's your _husband's_ favor until we find the family that is going to prove us otherwise."

Her brows slanted a touch and her mouth closed to a natural pout, but it was all an effect of looking down at the hemp braid he raised in his hand.

She took a long look at it, and flicked her eyes up to him. Frodo pressed his mouth and motioned for her to turn around so he could tie it on.

The bone ring fell at the hollow at her throat. It would be clearly visible whether she wore dress or cape or night robe. The bone ring would remind him how temporary she was and how strong of a spell a woman could cast. The feel of the hemp and bone on her neck was to remind her that she was locked away at the moment. Just to add to the permanence of this decision, Frodo didn't lock it with its built in ball and eye, he tied it in a knot that even he couldn't have untied without tremendous work. 

She turned around and touched the bone ring with her fingers. She could no longer see it, but the weight of its reality was already visible on her face. Lauren lifted her head to meet his eye. She took her medicine, she knew that it was right, but she wasn't going to pretend she liked it.

Frodo took a step back and grinned weakly at her, agreeing all the way.

Part one of the trip home was more business that the trip there had been. Frodo and Lauren sat in the cart with the goods, but now had so much stuff to deal with that they had to put their weight on the wheels in the middle and too far away to easily engage in conversation with those riding in the front. So Frodo was draped over the cotton bolts, propping his upper body up with his elbows, and explained his ideas to her. Lauren lounged sideways on the sack of chicken feed and rested her temple in her palm to offer options and agree to his decisions where she knew she could. 

They were going to make on like she were simply a hired maid in his household. It was a way of earning her keep, keeping her busy, and justifying to the rest of the town that she wasn't earning her keep in ways that were less than honorable. He would move her into the other bedroom and tasked her to handle all the cooking and cleaning, the chicken coop and the milkman. This would enable Frodo the time to work up the land so he could continue support her and the Gamgees. Lauren was delighted about being put to work and found honor in the simplest of responsibilities. Where Lauren was in suspect to be after his riches, this day proved it wrong.

Frodo also told her what he planned in terms of finding her identity. It was going to be tedious and slow, but the steps had to be made sooner or later. He would write letters to friends he knew in far away lands. It would take months, if not a whole year, before they would see all the results, so "patience" was the key word she was to lean on when times got tough.

Lauren's brows knitted a little to ask him just how many friends he had in far off lands. Frodo responded too easily with too much smugness on his face. "Well, a wizard, a dwarf, a couple of elves, the Queen of Rohan, and Aragorn. . .  who is now the King of um. . .  Gondor actually. . . ." As her expression strengthened, his voice weakened.

Lauren's face slowly blossomed at Frodo's sense of humor. "Are you making this up?"

Frodo scratched his eyebrow and got louder, yanking the perplexed attention of Merry and Sam as well. "No. There was this episode with this dead. . .  evil. . . " He couldn't bring himself to say Sauron's name. He took a deep breath and looked at the cotton fabric under his blunt-tipped fingers. "An army of orcs, and these . . .  flying beasts with dead kings on them. . . ." He paused to realize what he was telling her, but didn't want to tell her now. Not like this. He pulle din a new breath and tried to shake the severity off his shoulders. He forced himself to relax enough to give her a smile. "Well a bunch of Menfolk out in the East seem to think that I saved the-"  Frodo caught his breath when he looked at her. "It's not that important."

Lauren snickered again, tucking her head in with wild laughter.

"What?" He blatted with a grin.

She lifted her head, giggling until her face was red. "Orc and kings and flying things. You are absolutely impossible, Frodo." 

Never in his life had Frodo been so blatantly called a liar while so much love was woven into the message. He looked with mind-twisting disbelief toward Merry and Sam (the latter of which was glancing back with raised red eyebrows) and flopped a hand against the cotton bolt in a motion to just give up.

Lauren saw his expression and laughed even louder, rolling onto her shoulder so she could hold her belly to do it, but sparkling eyes kept dancing back to him.

Both Frodo and Lauren were in bubbly moods when they stopped for the night in Whitfurrows. The topic had gotten onto the milkman and Frodo had to explain to her the difference between cheese, yogurt and butter, but Lauren was still too giggly to take the topic seriously. He would try to explain how cheese was made and she would mistake it for butter. So he would explain butter and she would describe the end product as if it were yogurt. So he'd go into yogurt and she bit her lip and pretend to be back on cheese again.

Eventually, Frodo tightened his teeth and hunched hard over the supper table in happily exasperated defeat. Lauren snickered again, bumping her shoulder against his as she poured a bit of her ale into his mug as an apology.

Frodo was happy to have her home even before they rolled into town and the quiet pleasantness of his mood radiated from him. As soon as the first house came round the bend, Pippin ran up from the woods and hopped easily in the back of the cart. Frodo smiled at him. Lauren yelped in surprise to find him there. Sam looked back to say hello. Merry tossed the pouch of tobacco over and Pippin leaned over to smooch Lauren on the cheek.

Her eyes went wide and her hand went to her cheek. "I didn't realize you'd miss me so."

Pippin tilted his head in honesty, "Well, I didn't really." He grinned, "Bailey's just giving me the cold shoulder today." He angled his head casually. "How is your shoulder?"

She grinned a little and glanced questionably over at Frodo. Frodo looked her in the eye to shrug it off, and blindly kicked Pippin. 

_Thud._

"Owe."

Lauren looked back to Pippin.

Pippin glanced up at her with incredible casualness. "Huh?"

Sam's smile was found again as soon as they pulled up to the front of his house. He gave Rose and Elanor big hugs and kisses before he started to empty the cart. The whole crew worked to distribute the goods to whom they belonged and get everything put away, whether it was in their own home or not. The horses were stabled, brushed, fed and watered, the cart was returned to its owner up the road and everybody took a long time at the wash bucket in Sam's house to clean off some of the road dirt.

The Lauren Trials in Bree were summarized a great deal, but no one uttered the true nature of Lauren's 'kidnapping'. They simply described her intended duty as a 'free work hand'. In all reality though, Sam would tell Rosie, and Merry would tell Pippin, all in confidence, as soon as Lauren wasn't around to embarrass.

_~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~_

**_He Never Came Home_**

Frodo pulled open the turquoise-painted shutters, wrinkling his nose at the dust he kicked up as he did so. They stuck. He yanked. The loud crack preceded a wash of spring sun from the backyard. It wasn't much of a bedroom because it hadn't been used by anyone since Uncle Bilbo gave up the house to Frodo, but the place still rang as the icon of comfort and security that Frodo grew up safely in. The down mattress on the little bed had compressed over time. The unmade white sheets were covered in a single layer of ash gray dust, solidifying the random wads and old folds as a constant nag at the person who failed to make his bed the last time he'd slept in it. 

Lauren covered her nose with the backs of two fingers to try to keep from sneezing from the dust. Two sets of shelves were cluttered with stupid trinkets and unarranged paper. An old beer stein was filled with coin-sized stones in a corner. A tobacco pouch hang empty from the coat hook. Stacks of well-used books lay unkempt on their sides, falling over and into each other. A jar of black licorice bits now looked like a collection of dead flies. The armoire was empty, falling apart and undecorated. As if to stand apart from everything that said 'male', a lacey-yellow ribbon was tied to the bedpost like pair of batting eyelashes from the past. 

A boy once lived here. He left abruptly, but he never came home.

Lauren glanced over to ask.

Frodo was grinning. His eyes smiled into history. He reached over the clutter on a shelf and picked out a rolled knot of paper in his fingers. He pulled it out with a full smile, turned to her, and held it up. "Do you know what this is?"

She looked at the small gray thing. It looked nothing more than a tiny cylinder of paper with a string coming out of one end. She shook her head.

It was a tiny one, so Frodo set the little thing on the front step of the bedroom's white-brick fireplace. "I have a friend by the name of Gandalf." He stood up and motioned for her to hand over a match from the nearest wall sconce. "He's a wizard," he grinned, flicking the flame to life on the stick. "He comes up with the most fantastic little gadgets." 

Frodo lit the fuse and smiled proudly to hurry behind her. "Watch this." He stood behind her shoulder as it burned. Lauren watched the feisty little flame sizzle away and started to ask-

_POP!_

She jumped back into him, but Frodo was ready for it. He caught her, already chuckling and looked at her with pride. "Isn't that neat?"

She was still trying make her heart beat again. She slapped his shoulder and muttered under her breath. "Pointy-eared freak."

"Peg leg," he grinned and started to leave the room.

Lauren flicked a grin and sighed at the mess. "So this is my bedroom now?" 

Frodo beamed victoriously and pointed a rough order. "Make your bed."

Frodo had few real clues on how to cook but he remembered whether stuff was baked or boiled and he remembered what it looked like once it hit the table. He had managed all these with a handful of his favorites but admitted he was getting bored with them. 

He grinned then. "Alright, I confess. There _was_ a small alternate motive behind my idea to have you become my housemaid." They had no meat for the evening, so Frodo pulled a late-planted acorn squash. It wouldn't fill them up by itself, but it would have to do for tonight's tired dinner. 

"Other than cleaning _your_ bedroom?" She snorted. As he came back in with it, Lauren pointed at his nose. "You liked my stew!"

He didn't look up at her but admitted it shyly, "I liked your stew, yes." He stepped back from her so he could pull out the large kitchen knife and stone to sharpen it up a touch. "And now I'm going to punish you by making you cook for me all the time."

"Never let good deeds go unpunished," Lauren smirked. She sat down at the table and studied the strange shape of the squash. "No wonder you thought it was a try for your fancy."

He swiped the knife several times and put the stone away. He looked at her boldly; amazed she would deny it. "Well was it or wasn't it?" 

Lauren innocently scratched the side of her neck and drifted her eyes away. "Well. . . . Maybe. . . ." Her eyes shifted sweetly back to him, trying to stay out of trouble about it, "A little?"

"See?" He scolded lightly. He put one knee on the bench next to where she sat and picked up her hand off the table only to move it aside eight inches. He took the squash in his hand, studied a place to cut it, and prepared to put all his weight on the knife when he sliced.

"Did it work?" Lauren set her chin lightly on her fist and looked up at him. 

"Did it work." He echoed the stupid question and sliced open the hard shell of the squash with one smooth, powerful move. He stood on both feet again and put the knife on the table. "I don't know, Lauren," he grinned pathetically. "I jumped you in the hall the next day. What do _you_ think?"

Lauren bit her lower lip with a twinkle, shied by his boldness about it.

He passed behind her and hooked a finger on the back of her necklace just enough to pull the bone ring against her throat as a reminder. Lauren took the order soberly but not insultingly. She glanced back to where he'd sat down on the bench behind her.

Frodo motioned to the squash. "All I know from here is that you put some chopped up stuff in the hollow, like apples and nuts, season the top, and bake it in the oven for a couple of hours."

Lauren grinned. She pulled one of the halves over and studied it a moment like she was still thinking about gaining his fancy. She glanced back up to him. "The inside is too dry to bake. Are you sure it's not steamed?"

His lifted his chin honestly. "Haven't a clue. That's what you're here for."

Lauren rubbed her palms. "Least you could do was start me off with a piece of food I recognize."

He shrugged and climbed off the bench. "I'm not expecting a King's meal out of it, dear."

Lauren watched him go so he could tend to the chores that had been building up, and she got seriously to work on this evening's cooking experiment.

_~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~_

**_Does this make me look fat?_**

. . . "She asked if the dress made her look fat," Sam said once upon a time, "Answering questions like that are a tricky business, specifically when they're asking about their abilities or looks." 

Back then, they were sitting on top of a table in the pub, leaning shoulder to shoulder, after swallowing a half or two. Through hazy eyes, they watched the fair lady Sam had already been courting for some time. The bonnie maiden Rosie was dancing with her friends not far away.

Sam slurped up a little more and explained through intoxicated wisdom. "If she asks you a question, and you tell her the truth, that's bad. If _she_ tells the truth and you agree with her, that's bad too. If she tells the truth, and you _don't_ agree with her, now she thinks your lying."

Frodo had scratched the top of his head at all this.

"Some say answering a woman's question is a no-win situation," Sam explained. "But with Rosie, I think I've figured out a way."

"How's that?" Frodo asked with insanity on his face.

Sam leaned in to whisper his secret with a wink and intense nod. "Answer a different question."

Frodo's eyes shifted to his lap in complete befuddlement.

Sam cackled as he said it. "I told her the dress would make _me_ look just _fine_.". . . .

The acorn squash was decent. It was soft enough. The steaming idea worked, but she had spiced it with the entirely wrong stuff. 

Lauren sat up straight about it before Frodo had finished his first bite. It was a strange taste, but not a bad one, and thankfully, Lauren admitted its shortcomings _before_ she asked for Frodo's honest opinion of it. "I think oregano was a bad choice," she said to her dish and glanced up at him.

Frodo's tried to hide his sudden terror about how to respond, but upon afterthought knew he didn't hide any of it. Instead, he cut out another bite and stuffed it into his mouth before he spoke.

Lauren must've thought he hadn't heard her. "What do you think?"

He tried to think of which other question he should answer and came up empty, so he simply sliced another bite and told her the truth "You're right. It's weird."

Lauren smiled weakly, not angry and not really offended, but not terribly happy either.

"But I have faith in you, and for that I'll give you every bit of patience you need to find your magic." He took up his mug of wine and forced a scowl, "So stop giving me that look."

Lauren's smile found her eyes again but she kept it contained and proper as much as she could.

She was obvious, he realized, that's why she was dangerous. Even if she smiled at him over something harmless, there was fondness in her eyes that put a spell on him. It would start sucking him in for a second or two before he realized that the bliss was only a distraction so that he didn't feel his life force bleeding out through his stomach. 

Her laughter and her laughing eyes was like the poison of a spider, stunning him and distracting him so he wouldn't notice she was pulling out the miles and miles of his innards, and keeping his attention there until she'd claimed so much that it was too late to survive it.

Time after time, Frodo would catch it as the chord was slipping away out his belly. He would grab it with both hands, smile back at her with victory that he didn't fall for it, and push her back with a word or a look or a quick step away. It took a minute or two outside of her presence to put his innards back in their proper order and then he was good as new again. There was long time between stings, long enough for him to forget, and drop his guard again.

It would have been easier if it were as simple as comparing her to the sting of a hungry spider, that she was being mischievous or devious, that she knew deep down her intent was ill wanted, but none of that was true. 

Lauren was genuine, innocent, playful, even stupid at times, ignorant of the evils in life, and she couldn't care less about the adventures he wasn't ready to tell. She didn't even believe him. 

And there was never a sign when he would be stung. Her laughing eyes worked as well as her frightened ones. Her klutzy moments were just as beautiful as her graceful ones. The only time she couldn't cast a spell on him is when she was angry, which for one happened rarely, and for two, twisted his stomach in the worst ways imaginable, so Frodo avoided those as much as he could anyway.

In the end Frodo found his only peace when he wasn't in Lauren's vicinity. And then, he was wide open to attack from bad memories and Ring whispers. It became a frustrating, restless way to be.

_~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~_

**_Sneaking Out_**

"But you called us out to fight." Pippin muttered into his pillow. "Gandalf. . . ?"

He rolled over and shuddered himself awake with a deep scowl on his face. 

He rubbed one eye with his palm as he sat up. He was on the bed but still fully dressed. It was dark outside, the crickets were singing, but Pippin had still been asleep from his afternoon nap. It couldn't have been very late.

The dream still came at him as he fished himself awake. He could hear the fading echoes in his head: the women screaming, the orcs growling, the baby crying, the pounding on the gate like some repetitive earthquake . . . . 

Blue eyes were so hopeful. _Don't you want babies someday, Pip?_

He threw his legs out of the bed and his hands went into his hair, holding his head as the nausea soured on his mouth.

It had been a couple of months since they had their last Midnight Bottle and Pippin sure could use one right now. He slowly found his tobacco pouch and an unopened bottle of Mystery Liquor, tucked himself into a couple of layers to keep him warm, and set out to start collecting sleepy Hobbits.

Merry still lived in the giant Hall a day's ride away, but was in Hobbiton and Bag End so often he could be dependably found snoozing in an unused stable on fresh hay not far from the pub.

"Hey, Merry. Wake up."

Merry licked his mouth and blinked awake. He stuffed his elbows behind him to sit up and see the moonlight. His unasked question was answered as soon as he opened his eyes.

Pippin grinned from the stable door and showed him the large beautiful bottle. 

Merry started to grin and quietly climbed out of the hay.

Frodo was the third easiest to steel for a bottle, but this time there was an unknown variable in the house. Merry and Pippin slipped quietly through the front gate and whispered ideas about which window or door to sneak through. It was decided to go right through his bedroom window despite its small size or the thorny artichoke plant at its base. 

Pippin covered his hip with his thick coat and scooted between the plant and the window. He knocked lightly and called. "Frodo. Wake up."

Inside the dark and cozy room, Frodo was sleeping like a baby, oblivious to it all.

"Give me a lift," Pippin whispered. Merry tucked in a knee so Pippin would have something to stand on, and the other launched himself easily to sit on the window sill.

He struggled with the double shutters, but they were locked from the inside, and would have opened outward anyway. Pippin pulled them out as much as they would go and tried to stuff a finger between the resulting crack to push up the hook. 

"Quiet," Merry scolded. "You'll wake her up."

Frodo stirred, but barely.

Pippin's mouth twisted as he worked this contortionist's puzzle. "Don't worry about her. She's no right to be upset about him going out with the boys."

Merry shut his eyes with tested patience. "Then why aren't we going through the fuckin' front door?" 

Pippin stopped. He looked over to the front door, considering this.

"Nah," Merry waved it away. "He doesn't want her to start asking questions about what we're drinking off."

One of Frodo's eyes opened. He rolled over to peer at his window.

"Ah, good point." Pippin said, again rattling the window and shuffling his feet against the artichoke plant. "I don't want her to know either."

The shutters pulled away from Pippin's fingers. His eyes flicked. He froze. The hook was lifted quietly and then one shutter opened – the one that wouldn't knock Pippin's ass off the window sill and into the artichoke plant. 

Frodo leaned out with and elbow in the angel white glow of moonlight on nightclothes. "Use the front door next time. There's a reason the thistle bush was planted under this window." 

Pippin tried to slide off gracefully, and failed.

"We didn't want to wake up the little woman." Merry told him. 

Frodo grinned and shook his head. "She's not my woman. She's my housemaid. That's the beauty of it."

Pippin hopped off and brushed his pants back in order. "Aye, but for safety's sake, we're just gonna pretend like she's your woman from now on, all right?"

Frodo hitched a grin and shrugged it off. "I'll be out in a minute." He closed the shutters and quietly got dressed. It felt like boyhood again when he snuck out into the moonlight and found them on the road. 

The three of them paused out by the massive eucalyptus tree across the street from Sam's little house. There was a slight glow of what was left of the fire, probably meant to keep the baby warm, and absolute silence otherwise. This mission required cunning and patience.

Merry crossed his arms at his chest and studied the tightly shut windows. "We should go in through the kitchen."

"But then we'd have to go pass the baby's room," Pippin put in. "Don't forget what happened last time we did that."

Merry rubbed the back of his head with strong memories of The Skillet he Never Saw. "Perhaps you're right. Maybe the bedroom window? If we don't hear anything naughty. . . "  
Frodo leaned his back up against the dark tree trunk. "That doesn't mean they're not indecent."

Pippin thought long and hard and sucked a sigh in through his nose. They needed this tonight, but they couldn't do it with three. It just wouldn't be right. 

Then he heard it.

He put a hand out to get them to be quiet. Elanor was fussing and a soothing voice as pretty as a moonlight kiss was singing her back to sleep.

"Damn," Merry cursed. "She's awake."

Rosie wasn't an unreasonable woman. She had her hard lines, sure, but she had no strong aversions to letting Sam go out and play. Getting him out for a midnight bottle was difficult because of _Sam_, not Rosie. Sam was either worried about abandoning his wife and baby on extra cold or eerie nights. Or he was preoccupied with his baby when she had fallen ill, or was extra fussy, or it was just plain old His Night to Take Her. And often enough Sam was preoccupied with only his wife and the quest for another baby, in which case the other three never got through the yard before hearing it and giving up entirely. 

Frodo took a step forward. "I've got an idea." He started walking quietly but boldly to the front gate. Pippin and Merry were curiously frozen until Frodo waved them to follow and reminded them along the way to be extra silent.

 They went to the window of the front room where the coals still glowed warm and the singing was the loudest. There was even a low creak every two seconds of the rocking chair Rosie relaxed in.

With the three of them together, feet shuffling in the dirt, it wasn't a surprise for her to hear a finger tapping twice on the shutters. "It's open," Rose said quietly, albeit thinning patience was in her tone.

Frodo pulled open the shutters and the three heads appeared in the small window, pleading, pouting, and smiling sweetly while trying to remain absolutely silent for the sake of the bundle now snoozing in Rosie's arms.

At the sight, Rosie smiled warm and caring at them. Everybody heard details of the Battle, but she knew details of Sam and Frodo's end of the story better than anyone else alive. It was with this knowledge that she approved or denied requests for any male bonding.

And Frodo knew it.

He had a knowing grin on his face and stared directly at her. Frodo was the one to tell her the quote, _". . . Rosie Cotton dancing. She had ribbons in her hair. . . "_

So now, Rosie Cotton Gamgee cuddled Elanor a little bit more as she stared at Frodo.  "Go through the bedroom window. And don't wake the baby."

All three troublemakers smiled from ear to ear. Pippin blew her a kiss. Merry put his palms together and mouthed his thanks. Frodo took the round knob of the shutter and nodded at Rosie as he closed it.

Frodo shuffled to the bureau to dig out a warm set of clothes for him. Merry moved to close the bedroom door quietly, and Pippin crawled on the bed. Poor Sam was snoring, still deep under a thick layer of blankets when Pippin straddled his waist and leaned over. 

"Boo."

Sam jumped violently, heaving air and reaching for a sword that wasn't there. He started cussing and fighting, still startled and angry at Pippin for doing it to him. He looked to the other side of the bed. "What did you do with my wife?"

Pippin was giggling but grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him hard down again. Merry had fallen on Rose's side of the bed to slap a hand over Sam's mouth. "She said don't wake the baby or you cannot go with us."

Sam's eyes were still wide and confused. He saw Frodo step up to the end of the bed, grin a little, and throw some clothes down. Merry pulled his hand from the man's mouth and whispered quite regally. "We've come to inquire on you if you'd like to share a bottle on the water with us this fine midnight."

Sam finally breathed in a huff. His eyes closed and he dropped back on the bed with a groan.

_~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~_

**_Pippin's Midnight Bottle_**

The night always started out with jokes and teasing as they walked through the crops and down the road. They would start out complaining about bad beer or cussing out neighbors, and would end up making fun at each other's complaints. This time, they broke into song, out of tune and chuckling between verses, bumping into each other as they walked and grabbing the bottle from another's hand.

Sam stopped his feet and tried to tuck in to sing a deep tone, but he belched instead. It echoed against the sleeping trees. Merry tossed his head back with laughter. Pippin's eyes were still tearing up from the last hilarious comment, and Frodo wrapped an arm around Sam's shoulders. "I think you're done with that," He took the bottle from his friend and took in a deep slug.

"Hay." Sam whined lightly but kept walking forward. "I can't possibly be drunk already. We haven't even got there yet."

"You're not," Frodo assured, patting his shoulder with a manly slap. "I'm just taking away the tempting evils of the earth, so you won't be lured by its poison."

Sam nodded at that, "Well I suppose I should thank you for that."

Frodo nodded and took another slug.

Sam reached a hand up and plucked it from his mouth. "And I'll thank you for this too."

Frodo sputtered, trying to catch as much of the wine as he could as he cackle wildly. And Pippin rode by on the back of a 'pony', Merry, who tried to laugh and gallop, and carry Pippin at the same time. 

They tumbled to the road within a few feet.

The moon was nearly full. It shined down through the treetops, giving the night a happy glow. The water giggled scintillating reflections. The crickets chirped a good beat to sing to. A night bird occasionally cried out as it swooped over the riverbank. A tiny pier had but a single rowboat tied to it, but they never went in the rowboat, lest they got too drunk and drifted. Instead, they had a special spot not far down water of the pier. 

There was nothing particularly remarkable about it save that it was far enough away from houses and livestock to avoid waking anybody with their laughter. It was simply where they ended up the first time they did this, without realizing it would turn into a tradition, and they habitually end up in the same place nearly every time. 

It was a spot where there weren't any trees or bushes in the way, but they were loosely surrounded by them, the smell of honeysuckle drifted on the wind from time to time, a slope steep enough to lay back comfortably and stare at the stars, and a marsh-less edge to the deep flow of water. It had all the sounds and sights once could experience at nighttime that would remind them that they had, in fact, saved the Shire.

"It's still here," Frodo grinned sleepily. He rested his elbow on his knee and his cheek on his fist. He smiled at the glittering moon reflection on the river like it was a diamond he thought he'd lost. 

"Of course it's still here." Sam lay back on the hill and balanced the bottle on his big stomach and a bit of glaze in his eyes. "You didn't think we'd go through all that and not come out smelling like roses, would yeh?"

Pippin lay on the hill like Sam did, but he was on his side, holding his body up with an elbow and tearing apart a tiny, dried leaf. He was quiet and intense, an uncommon thing to see in Pippin, and silently reached over for the bottle. 

Sam offered it, but mumbled apologetically. "It's empty."

Below Sam and Pippin, Merry rolled over, holding his chest up with his elbows and pulled something out of his layers of coats. "Not to fret. I brought a spare." He handed it easily up to Pippin to open and drink.

Sam lifted his head to look down at Merry. "So. Who called this meeting?"

Merry motioned to Pippin. Sam and Frodo looked over to find him swigging hard and tight.

They waited quietly, patiently. Nobody interrupted his thoughts. Nobody would have been surprised if he said nothing at all. But Pippin could have drank alone if he wanted to be silent. He looked up at Frodo. "Lauren is so lucky."

Sam's flicked at that one. He'd totally forgotten about the girl tonight. What did one have to do with the other. "What?"

"She has no memory of it," Frodo explained to Sam and gave Pippin a weak, understanding grin.

"Neither does Rosie." Sam pointed out. "She wasn't even there."

"But she _knows_ about it." Pippin insisted. "She knows the stories. She knows what it all meant. What it was all about. . .  Bailey does too. They all get this sullen look in their eyes every time it comes up. . . ." His eyes drifted to the rippling water. His voice died a little. "They feel sorry for us."

Merry's brows knitted. "Are you sure that's coming from them?"

Pippin kicked him in the shoulder. "A few weeks ago you were insisting that some parts we'd never get over, and now you're telling me to get over it!? You didn't see what I saw!"

Merry lifted angrily on his hands and knees to crawl closer, but clearly was only going to yell at Pip. "No, lad, you're right. I didn't. But I was in it too. Down on the _battlefield_. What I saw wasn't any less and I've recovered better than any of you. Frodo and Sam I understand, but _you_. You had _Gandalf_, for cryin' out loud. You have to stop feeling sorry for yourself!"

Sam put a hand on Merry's arm to get him to back off. Frodo dropped his arm and spoke soberly. "Pipe down, Merry."

"And so do you!" Merry hissed up at Frodo. "You have to get over it too!"

Sam pressed his mouth, grabbed Merry by the thick layers on his collar and yanked him back down the hill without needing to get up and do it. Merry slid down a foot with Sam, and looked over as if the man had called him out for a fight.

"Don't you get it?" Sam yelled. "You're the only one that didn't touch it!"

Merry looked wide-eyed into Sam's angry ones for a moment. He looked at Frodo, who's sad gaze had dropped to the ground, then to Pippin who'd pinched at his eyes with thumb and forefinger. Pippin never held the ring in his hand, but he had the palantir long enough to feel the same heavy horror.

Merry's eyes died with regret. He crawled slowly and humbly back up the hill until he was parallel with his friend. 

Pip's eyes were slammed shut. His mouth was drawn tight. His throat quivered.

Merry lowered down and put his face on his forearms. Pippin patted him once on the shoulder, accepting the apology.

Sam sighed slowly and crawled back up to where he was before. 

"What was it," Merry muttered, "that shook you up tonight?"

Pippin didn't open his eyes. "Babies crying."

Frodo folded his arms on his knees and tucked his mouth behind them. Sam stared up at the stars and saw none of them.

"Bet you didn't hear that on your battlefield." Pippin told him and sniffed awake.

Merry kept his head down and sighed guiltily.

"He was screaming," Pippin whispered with his eyes closed. "For his mum. Lost in the ruckus." Pippin's face was dumbstruck. His is eyes opened at nothing, red and watery. "And then he was quiet."

The crickets sang and the river moved deep and gentle, but the moon said nothing.

Merry pushed to sit on his knees and took the bottle gently from Pippin. Then he took the other's free hand backwards and held it strong.

Pippin rolled onto his back and looked up at Merry. "And tonight I dreamt he was mine," he tried to grin. "I couldn't even see him. Didn't know where he was, but that baby was screaming for me."

Frodo opened his eyes and looked over to listen. Sam took a long slow drink and savored the dose of a numbing soul. 

Pippin continued. "I would have taken whatever death that came to him. . .  just so he'd have a chance to laugh again. . .  since I never would."

"But you do." Merry reminded. "You laugh all the time, Pip. It's just. . .  some moments in life aren't so funny anymore. There's nothing wrong with that."

"Bailey doesn't understand." Pippin explained, now beginning to recover from the intense image. "She asked me if I wanted babies someday and I had to say no. She doesn't understand. She remembers me from before, even though I wasn't courting her then. She remembers what I was like."

Pippin took a deep breath and sigh out the rest of his tears instead of crying them. "She's afraid of me, Merry. That's why she gets so angry when I go off drinkin'. I don't want to talk to her about it because it'll change her eyes when she looks at me. But. . . " Pippin's face rippled. He rubbed his forehead with his palm and sat up, suddenly able to put the problem into words. "But I think she's starting to imagine that it was worse than it was. Like _I_ was one of the orcs killing babies, instead of the ones trying to fight them off."

Sam glanced over at that and nodded, understanding exactly what he meant. "Women aren't stupid, they're just worry warts." 

Merry leaned back and let go. He took the bottle for a swig.

Pippin sat up fully looking to Sam for answers. "But there's nothing more to worry about." Pippin insisted, "We got him. Sauron's dead. The war is over."

"She's not worried about the war, Pip." Sam sat up, explaining. "She's worried about _you_."

Frodo's eyes slid back and forth to whomever was talking. They had nearly teared up for a moment, but they were looking warmly at Pippin, happy for him even if Pippin didn't understand why.

"What should I do?" As if Sam was the master just because he was married.

"Talk to her." Sam told him. "Tell her your stories. Tell her what haunts you. She'll understand."

Pippin's face wrinkled madly. "They _like_ that?"

"Well that depends," Sam said and grinned over at Pippin knowing the man was probably not ready to admit it yet. "Do you love her?"

Pippin sat up a little straighter and looked down his nose as Sam's impropriety. "Don't you think that's a little personal?"

Frodo was still tucked behind his forearms, practically forgotten, but his hidden chuckle made him known again. 

Pippin put a palm up, "You see? He agrees with me. Don't yeh, Frodo."

Frodo finally lifted his head and unfolded his arms with a serious nod. "Sure, Pip. Whatever you say." It, of course, mattered not that Pippin was groveling to her when she was angry, nor that they were talking about babies someday. It mattered not that no topic was off limits here,  in this group, in this place. The 'L' word was personal and that was final.

Pippin crawled up and sat his bum on the hill right next to Frodo and helifted his head as if the allegiances had turned completely around. "Just because a man has a woman in his life doesn't mean he's falling in love with her." He lifted his chin boldly and elbowed Frodo. "Isn't that right?"

But Frodo would be the last to point that finger. Frodo smiled and nodded succinctly. "Absofuckinlutely."

 Pippin got whiplash looking at Frodo's smug grin. Merry snickered at it. Sam chuckled as he handed up the bottle and pointed out. "Them aren't steady defenses you're standing on, laddie."

Pippin tucked in to whisper a question. "What'd I miss? Have you been getting fresh with your housemaid?"

"She blushed!" Merry reported loudly.

Frodo squeezed his eyes shut as he took a swig. His shoulders curled up defensively and his cheeks puffed with a tight laughter he couldn't stop.

"Ah ha!" Pippin grinned out at Merry and whispered to Frodo, tacitly asking for other details. "So? Just how _pink_ did she get?"

Frodo licked his mouth closed and drew it in small. He inhaled a sigh through his nose and flicked his eyes to Pippin. "She blushed enough." 

Pippin adjusted to sit taller, even if his legs were folded in front of him, and wrapped an arm around Frodo's shoulders. "All right lads, now I have something to work with. Frodo won't even _tell_ Lauren what happened. Why should I give over the gory details to Bailey?"

Sam rolled his head with exasperation. "Look, I'm not _ordering_ you to do it. I'm just saying it worked for Rose. Once I gave in the details, it wasn't such a mystery anymore." He shrugged, lifting a palm in the air. "It was either that or argue with her every time I wanted to come out with you guys. What are you gonna do?"

Pippin settled in, thinking. His shoulders slumped. Frodo handed over the bottle, but Pippin shook his head and waved it off. So Frodo took another swig and passed it back down to Sam.

Pippin elbowed Frodo again. "_Would_ you tell Lauren?"

Frodo stretched his legs out and leaned back on locked elbows. His face twisted strangely as if the question was absurd. "She's my housemaid!"

"You're _blushing_ housemaid," Sam insisted.

Frodo's flattened his mouth.

Pippin was serious. "C'mon, Frodo. I'm speaking hypothetically of course. Say you were banging her regularly and the future started looking up for the two of you-"

"Isn't it supposed to be the other way around?"

"-if you're a _Baggins_. . . " Pippin pointed out but got back on topic. "Would you tell her about the Ring?"

Frodo fell into deep thought about it. The butterflies came into his stomach again the whispers fluttered back into his head. His eyes fell on Sam, who was staring seriously back. There were still a few things that even Pippin and Merry didn't know.

"Everything?" Frodo whispered and started shaking his head. There were some things the women would never get to know. They just wouldn't understand. His eyes rolled over to Pippin, big and scared all over again, and shook his head once more. "I wouldn't tell her everything."

Pippin nodded at his lap, feeling it for another quick moment, and dropped his elbows on his knees. "See there, Sam? You got a good woman. But they're not all like that."

Sam shrugged and fiddled with a twig on the ground. "I guess it's different when you're in love with them."

Two pairs of blue eyes flicked up at that. 

"I didn't tell Rosie _everything_." Sam continued as he watched his twig spin between his fingers. "Not like Frodo's thinking, but I told her enough to explain things." 

Merry fell down on his side, propped a head in his palm and deepened his voice to pervert depth. "What kind of things did you explain?"

Sam faced it with a grin on his brow. "That's between a man and his wife."

Pippin leaned down with a flick of attitude on his chin. "In other words, _it's personal_."

Sam turned up to laugh at him. "At least I'll admit that I'm in love with her!" 

"But you _have_ to," Pippin insisted that this was obvious. "You're already married!"

Frodo shook his head. "Sam was obvious long before he married her."

Merry rolled onto his stomach and elbows to peer up at them. "And where do you think we got the idea that you two may have been put under the spell?"

Frodo leered down to Merry. "Why is the Womanless One asking us these questions?"

"Ah don't worry bout him," Pippin waved Merry off and whispered loudly to Frodo. "He's just a poof."

Sam sputtered wine out of his mouth. Frodo ducked away with red-faced laughter. Merry hissed and gritted teeth as he started scattering hands and knees up the hill. Pippin cackled as he got up and ran. 

Sam was wiping the wine from his mouth when Pippin and Merry came tearing back down the hill. Pippin was laughing and screaming like a hyena and Merry was growling and gaining on him even though he wasn't angry. He grabbed him by the collar and yanked Pippin to the ground. 

The feisty Hobbit was still giggling madly, teary-eyed, red-faced, and tried to block the expected punch with his forearms. "Please don't hurt me."

Frodo was laughing so hard he held his aching stomach with one hand and rolled up onto the other elbow. Sam was still giggling as he slid down to the scene and tried to diffuse the situation with a bottle in front of Merry's nose, but he slid into them as he did it.

"Watch it!" Pippin suddenly said. "That water is cold."

The rippling stream of melted snow was already dabbing against Pippin's feet. Merry's brows lifted at the blunt truth as the idea rolled into his head.

Pippin's eyes widened. "Don't."

Sam was having too much fun. He crawled to his knees and helped Merry pick Pippin up by the arms. 

"Frodo!?" 

Frodo came skidding down to try to keep Pippin's from being thrown in, but Frodo still laughing as he went and lost his grip on the hill. He fell into Pippin's back, who pushed Merry forward, and kicked off Sam's balance. The three went tumbling ungracefully into the water. Not deep or far, just enough to get wet on their clothes and hair and faces. As soon as the splash settled and the faces were pushed from the water, all eyes glared over.

Frodo was left on the bank with wider eyes and louder laughter at his mistake. His body curled over and his leg curled up as he cackled madly at them.

Six arms came out of nowhere, grabbing Frodo on limbs and clothes and yanked him in.

They splashed a moment, and made certain Frodo and Pippin got thoroughly wet and cold before crawling hands and knees and incredibly drunk back to the lonely bottle that was left behind. 

Sam got to it first and took a swig, only to roll over on his back and stare up at nothing. Pippin was right behind him, falling down right next to him. Frodo crawled over top of both of them to the other side, and he sipped quickly and saved the last to pass down to Merry, who was so weary that he lay like a wet rag over Pippin's legs. 

Dizzy, tired and cold, all four stared up at the stars in a knot, still grinning a little, still sad a little, and two deep breaths away from passing out. 

Pippin sighed deep, "You're right, Sam." His voice was far away and a light shined deep in his battle-scarred eyes. "I _must_ love her."

Frodo's eyes turned. 

Merry closed his eyes with a wise, content grin. 

"She's the only one I can imagine ever telling," Pippin whispered.

Sam closed his eyes and patted Pippin's face, though he meant to pat his head. "Glad we could help, Pip." 

_~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~_

**_Master Likes Us_**

Nobody remembered details about leaving the riverbank. It wasn't surprising that the wet hair and midnight breeze droved them back to shelter instead of sleeping it off where they fell. But they did remember stumbling together into the front door of Bag End and finding a person they completely forgot would be there. 

Lauren's only real question, so intense that she repeated it loudly enough for them to remember it, was to Sam, "Does Rosie know where you are?!"

Sam winced and tried to wave her off like a fly. "Yes, yes, of course she does." With that he was pushed backwards into a chair. Pippin remembered nothing about being half-carried to Lauren's old bed. Merry remembered enough to know that he thanked her for the blanket on his shoulder. And Frodo remembered more than he wanted to. 

He was giggling too much because he was scared witless about the combination of her presence and his condition. As she pulled him by the wrist, fretting worriedly to get him to pass out on his own bed, he started making fun and teasing where he probably shouldn't have been. "What deep dark cave are you leading me into?"

Lauren looked at him with pain and fear and tried to shove him to the bed like one would shove a cow. She stepped where she could control his fall if necessary, so he wouldn't hit his head on a piece of furniture as he went down.

Frodo bumped into her and reached so he wouldn't spill, but then put an arm around her neck in a one armed hug. He took a deep breath and started to fall asleep in her hair. "Stay with me," he whispered sadly.

Lauren took him by the collar, came nose to nose with his sleeping face and told him softly but firmly. Her eyes were tearing up. "Frodo. Lay down."

He followed where the tethers on his shirt took him and rolled onto the bed until his back was to her, but his hand, the one that was missing the tip of its index, kept a grip like it was snagged onto her wrist. 

Lauren's brows ripple sadly at him, worried sick, and completely unsure what to do. She saw the damaged finger and pealed it off her arm as she sat down beside him. She looked over his shoulder at his face to see if he'd passed out, but Frodo's eyes were wide open, sad, scared, and shocked as if it were all brand new.

Lauren took his hand and put it in front of him where it was supposed to be. She sat behind his back and pulled a blanket over his shoulder. Nervously, she reached down and kissed his temple.

Frodo closed his eyes.

She tried to console him, but her voice wavered with worry. She petted his hair to shush him to sleep. "It's just hound dogs. . .  baying at the moon. . . ."

Pippin consciousness came to him like spring. A window was open. There was a gentle breeze and sunshine on his face, a soft bed under him, a warm blanket over him, his face was in a cozy pillow that smelled like girls and jasmine soap, and as he rolled to smile and open his eyes, he heard the sizzle and drank in the smell. . . 

of _breakfast_.

Pippin never smiled so big.

Sam was still snoring in the big chair in front of the fireplace. Merry was waking slowly on the thick rug in the smial, complete with pillow and blanket over him. Pippin stepped over Merry like he was a bump in the road, tripped a little, bumped his ass into Sam's face, and just kept following his nose to the kitchen. 

Lauren saw him come in from the corner of her eye and giggled wickedly. "I was right."

Pippin sat down at the table and pulled over a clean plate and fork. "Right about what, luv?"

"Which one of you would wake to breakfast first." She turned around and served him three deliciously cooked eggs, a few thick slabs of bacon, and a hunk of fresh cheese.

Pippin wasn't even looking at her. "Lauren, you are the most beautiful thing I've ever woken up to."

Frodo was coming out of his bedroom on the other end, pulling up his suspenders and wincing at the brightness of the day. His tone grated like a raw millstone. "Where precisely did you sleep?"

Pippin looked up without realizing what he was saying, and pointed. "Her bed."

Lauren was already smiling when Frodo glanced questionably over. "My _old_ bed," she explained. "I slept in my bedroom."

He didn't respond, but seemed satisfied. Frodo stepped over to see breakfast over her shoulder. He meant to whisper an apology, but she ignored him, giving him too much of a cold shoulder at first. 

He closed his mouth and eyes with a silent curse.

Lauren looked over her shoulder at him, her mouth was tucked behind her long straight hair and her eyes were gentle. "Sit down." She offered quietly as if only he were supposed to hear it. "I'll serve it to you."

He opened his eyes.

Brown eyes were kind on him. "How many eggs do you want?"

Blue eyes lightened a little. "Three."

She smiled back, touched the necklace at the hollow of her throat, and nodded. "Okay. Sit down."

Frodo sat down just as Sam was lumbering in. "How did we get back here?"

"Tea." Merry shuffled in just as sleepily. "Tell me there's tea."

Lauren served them up full breakfasts without adding anything to their grumbling conversation. They muttered to each other about how late it probably was and where they had been expected. When the serving was done, they were deep into eating and talking to each other, so she slipped out of the kitchen without a word, disappearing into the back of the house.

The four fell silent as she left, finishing their bites as they looked at each other, and waited until they were certain she was out of earshot.

"Is she mad?" Merry asked. 

"It sure doesn't _taste_ like she's mad." Sam commented, shoveling in another bite.

"It doesn't matter if she's mad," Pippin insisted, "She's only his housemaid." Pippin elbowed Merry.

"She's not mad," Frodo told them, his eyes still on the back of the house where he sensed exactly what was going on. He looked over at them again, understanding now how right Sam was last night. "She's worried."

On the other side of the house, at the open back door, Lauren listened as if scientifically taking notes until there was the sound of laughter in the kitchen, tired as it may have been.

Rose started nodding at what the ladies heard. "See? They're fine."

The quartet began to snicker at each other in loud whispers, making fun as they ate. 

Lauren nodded and sighed with a little relief. "They certainly sound better than they did yesterday."

Rose shrugged a shoulder, consoling the woman. "They're safer together than they are apart, Lauren. It's when they start drinking alone that you should worry."

Lauren glanced up at Rosie. "It was a war, wasn't it?"

Rose cocked her head and smiled curiously, "How-"

"What the hell are you telling her?!" Sam spat from the hall. He was angry enough to startle Rose with his tone. "Where's Elanor? Why aren't you looking after her?"

Rose lifted her chin. "Elanor's sleeping. Lauren has concerns."

Sam stomped across the room just as Pippin and Merry came tumbling out from behind him. Sam took his wife by the elbow and looked at Lauren. "I'm sorry to be so rude. But you're new here. There are some questions you _just don't ask_."

Lauren stepped back and nodded obediently. Sam led his wife out of the back door by the elbow. The chickens ruffled up with they bumped into the coop on their way out. Rose was already talking back to him, trying to defend herself without the others overhearing.

Pippin stepped up to Lauren with a smile, put his arms on her shoulders and kissed her cheek. "Can we come back for Elevensies?"

Merry's eyes shifted, "It's time for us to be moving along, Pippin."

Pippin slumped and stepped out the back door with Merry. "Yeah. It's time for me to get in a fight with my own girl now." He grinned back at Lauren and whispered loudly, "Merry doesn't have to worry about that, you see. He's a poof." 

Merry yanked. Pippin yelped. And the two disappeared around the corner.

Sam brows were hard, "Go on home," he ordered Rosie with a hard point past her shoulders. "I'll be down in a minute."

Rose lifted her chin and flicked around like there was going to be a set of claws at the other end of that conversation. 

Sam turned hard and stomped once into the house at Lauren. "What did she tell you?"

Lauren took another step back and bumped into the bookshelf, shaking her head frantically. "Nothing. She didn't tell me nothin'."

Sam didn't move to her, but his scowl was aggressive enough. There were too many similarities. "Don't give me that helpless look."

Worry touched Frodo's brow. "Sam."

Lauren braced herself against the bookshelf. Her brows were angled pathetically. "She didn't say anything, Sam. I swear! I asked if there was a war. But she didn't answer me. I swear that was it. Rose didn't tell me anything."

_We swears. . . _

Frodo took a step up behind Sam, but he was unsure if he should back Sam up or pull Sam off. His eyes were watching Lauren to start seeing the same thing that was making Sam jump so quickly to the offensive.

Lauren glanced over at Frodo for help. "Frodo? Tell him I didn't do anything wrong. I asked her over this morning because I was worried. That's all. I swear I was just trying to take care of you."

_Master likes us. . . . _

Frodo sighed soberly and put a hand on Sam's shoulder. 

_Fat hobbit. . . ._

Sam's scowl faded, but his face twisted in pain. He turned away.

No. Not everything. There were some things the women would never understand.

"Lauren?" Frodo said quietly and instantly had her hopeful attention, but what he had to say wasn't going to make her feel any better. "Go clean up the kitchen."

Lauren didn't give any expression on her mouth, but her eyes changed like he'd just slapped her across the face. She rapidly disappeared from the room. 

They waited until she was out of earshot again.

Sam turned only enough to look at Frodo over his shoulder. "You get to tell her. No one else does. I won't let Rose take that away from you."

To Frodo, this was idiotic, "Why?"

Sam started and stopped, closing his mouth and letting the sigh out of his nose. He muttered something else instead. "Just trust me."

Frodo grinned sadly and nodded. "All right."

Sam shook his head and curled his lip at Frodo. "And do us all a favor and take that bloody ring off her neck!"

"Aye," Frodo mumbled, having already figured that out even if he hadn't yet given it conscious thought.

The two weren't looking at each other as they slapped each other's shoulders. They turned away just as quickly. Sam closed the back door behind him and jogged down the hill to make up with Rose, and Frodo sucked his lower lip as he turned around in the hall to find Lauren.

He slipped by her in the kitchen, putting a hand on her side to keep her from bumping into him. She stopped in the middle of a turn with a soapy skillet in her hand. She stayed there, eyes down to politely let him pass, but was a stiff about it. 

"Breakfast was delicious," Frodo complimented quietly. "Thank you for tending to us."

She didn't try to meet his eyes, but her shoulders softened. "You're welcome."

He stepped on, disappearing into the study, and listened to the pots and pans clank quietly in the kitchen. He pulled open the shutters to let the day in and shook up the ink before opening it. 

Almost thoughtlessly now, he shuffled through several fresh letters on the table. He'd been working on them for a week. "To: Sir Legolas of Rivendell" was written on the front of an envelope, "To: Queen Eowyn of Rohan," on another and even, "To: King Aragorn of Gondor," There were a few others, to Gimli, to Galadriel. . .  And they were all written with fairly the same verbiage and level of detail, but some how Frodo knew nothing would come of them. 

He pulled out a fresh few sheets and put them on the writing board. He could hear Lauren pouring a new bucket of water into the dry sink and he rubbed his stubby finger on his lip as he thought about it. This is the letter that would produce results. This is the one that would bring the fastest response and the most thorough investigation. Maybe that's why he was writing it last. He decided he'd add more detail this time, just for good effort. Maybe the man would be able to do something without even having to make the trip. 

Frodo wet the plume with ink the color of orc-blood, and put the nib to paper. He scratched it out in the neatest letters he could manage:

Dear Gandalf. . . .

_~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~_

**_The Power of Pippin's Grin_**

Bailey Bracegirdle was beautiful when she was angry. 

Her dress was baby blue with white ruffles everywhere. Her raven hair was pinned up on top of her head, revealing every bit of her tastily pointed ears, and a few curls would always slip out and dribble against her slim white neck. Her eyes were the clear blue of a warm sky, framed with curly lashes and clean eyebrows. Her mouth was red and kissable, even when she was yelling at him. 

Pippin paid attention to everything about her, except what she said. "You're so beautiful."

She stepped back deeper into the trees with fists and her sides. "Peregrin! Haven't you been listening to me?!"

He took another long step forward. "Is it any different than the last time you were angry with me?"

"No!" She hissed and huffed and sighed and started to cry. "That's why I'm so angry! You never listen, Pippin!" She turned away and stormed off another few steps.

"I do too listen," he defended as he took another long step closer to her.

She turned back to him and stomped back to his face. "If you listened to me then you'd stop! I don't care what happened out there anymore! You can't just drink it all away like that!" She crossed her arms and stood her ground. "Not if you're going to be with me."

She had a way of storming away and stomping back to him, which worked well enough for him. As long as he kept closing the distance in a particular direction, he could herd her like a cat into a lonely spot where they could talk, and he could grin, and it would be all better again.

By now, they were a far cry from Bailey's backyard, surrounded by old trees and new grass. Pippin took the last step to her, but this time Bailey wasn't going to storm away.

He stopped in front of her, toe to toe. He stuffed his fists in his front pockets and locked his elbows. 

"You're all fun and games, Pip," she looked up sadly at him, begging him to change. "I can't go through life with nothing but fun and games."

He looked deep into her eyes as if she hadn't yet answered this question. "What else do you want me to do?"

 She blinked and opened her mouth wide with insult. Palms went into his face and she turned to take a few more steps back. "You need the doctor to check your ears!"

Pippin leaned forward. "You want me to stop drinking." He said, proving he heard her. "You want me to stop smoking."

She turned and crossed her arms again, lifting her chin to face him down. "A good man _would_ for his girl." Bailey had a habit of quoting her father as if the statement and passion were hers alone.

"You want me to stop picking crops." He grinned at all this and lowered his voice to tease about it. "You want me to get a job, a house, a respectable wardrobe. . . ."

The lines of her brows tilted. "You're not a kid anymore."

He stepped up toe to toe with her again and tilted his face with a sweet grin. 

"Come on, Pip." She started to wince, trying to stay mad.

He tucked in with pride in his eyes, keeping his smile in her line of sight. His hands found her slim little waist. 

She tried to duck out of it, putting her hands on his arms as if to push him away, but was giggling by the time he kissed her. Bailey didn't blush too much. This was hardly the first time they'd been here, but he managed a good giggling flush out of her when he dipped her so deep he sent them tumbling onto the thick grass.

 "Oof," he faked as he shifted his body and trapped her snugly against the blanket of grass. "That was an accident."

"Oh sure," Bailey smiled. 

Pippin propped his temple into the palm of his hand. He looked at her like there was nothing else in the world worth looking at. "You're not complaining," he pointed out.

She sighed deep and depressed and flopped her head onto the ground. She was sad and sweet about it at the same time. "You're never going to grow up are you?"

Half of his mouth smiled weakly, strangely starting to look grown up about it. "You don't want me to."

Feeling as stabbed as if he'd just broken up with her, she pushed him off and started to get up. 

Peregrin rose to his hip, leaning on his hand and tried to stop her from going. "Bailey."

She stayed where she sat up. Her skirts were in a ruffle around her, her head was bowed like she was about to cry. "I can't do this anymore, Pippin."

"Yes, you can." He told her quietly. "It's what we've been doing, isn't it? We have fun together. Sure, when I'm off, I drink and I smoke and I play. That's not going to change. I won't lie to you by pretending I can change it just because you're angry with me about it."

Bailey sniffed, but she didn't look up at him.

"I do it all too much. That much is true. But only when I'm not around you." He looked up into the trees, and swallowed the lump in his throat. "I don't like talking about it. That's true too. But when I'm ready, you're the only one I'm going to tell."

She sniffed again and glanced over. 

Pippin pointed away, hard and loud. "And it took me drinking with them last week to figure that out."

A brow arched, strangely honored. "You talked about _me_?"

Pippin dropped his arm. His eyes were serious and his words were true. The words just seemed to fall out of his mouth. "I love you, Bailey."

Her chest heaved with a new breath. Those words didn't often tumble off Pippin's tongue, and even when they did, they had never been uttered quite so richly. 

Peregrin shook his head a little. "There are some things I can't change, but I think you like the rest of it well enough." He licked his lips and his voice was lighter, but he didn't yet smile. "You know I'm true to you. You know I'd never run out on you. I'll simmer down some if I can. I'd even marry you if you'd let me." He took a deep breath. "But good or bad, Bailey, I love you, and I can promise you _that_ is not going to change either."

Bailey's eyes flared with a new fire. She walked her hands over and stretched to reach and kiss him. Pippin blinked as if her action woke him up. He twitched a grin as he kissed her back, and then shuffled his legs so he could pull her in by the waist and kiss her again. Her hands were pulling in his face, and his hands were pulling her in by the hips. 

"Do you have any idea what you just said to me?" She whispered into his mouth.

Pippin's eyes shifted one direction and then the other before moving back down to her. His mouth flicked a grin again. "Not really." 

She yanked him back by the shoulders and rolled him over, pinning him roughly down on the ground with her elbows across his chest. Pippin didn't pretend to fight it, so there was no point in yielding. He flopped flat on his back with arms and legs out like sticks in odd directions. 

"Did you mean it or not?" Bailey sneered down at him. "Do you remember what you said or don't you?"

At first, he had panicked enough about his words to deny the entire declaration, but something about her reaction made his eyes shine like stars. "I do."

Her cool blue eyes filled with love like he'd never seen, and Pippin smiled with an explosive compound of elation and terror. Poor Pip was defenseless. Bailey took him by the face and kissed him so hard he wasn't able to come up for air for a whole minute, but by that time, he was kissing her back just as passionately. 

There was something about her kiss that was a little different today; something about the way she wrapped her arms around his neck. A set of sneaky fingers slipped up from her hip and started fumbling with the ribbon lacing that kept the bodice to her bodice, and a hand reached around to smooth away the elastic hem of her collar. Puffs of skin started to escape her clothing.

She didn't stop kissing him. She just reached in and grabbed his hand.

He smiled into her mouth. "Just a peak?"

She smiled wide and kissed him again but somehow held his one hand out of trouble. He kissed her cheek and her ear and her neck and tried to get his hand free so he could continue. She giggled and snickered and held his hand hard, locked with an elbow an arm's length away. 

So, Pippin started sneaking in his other hand up her calf and under the white ruffles to her naked knee.

Bailey tossed her head back with laughter and tried to grab his other hand before it slipped into trouble too. She scrambled to her feet and yanked him up by his wandering hand. She was already marching away.

He coughed as he stumbled to his feet, pulling grass and leaves out of her hair with the other. "Where are we going?"

"We have to go tell my father." 

This much, apparently, should have been obvious. 

Pippin's eyes flashed wide. "W- wait!" He tried to slow her down but her grip was firm on his hand and she wasn't in the mood to argue anymore. "Can I take it back?" 

It was at that moment that Bailey stopped listening to him. 

"I didn't know that was apart of the deal!"

_~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~_

**_Ball and Chain_**

Frodo had one hand on his hip and the other on the handle of an axe. "Lauren," he tried to be patient with her. "You _have_ to pick a chicken." 

Lauren pursed her lips at him and slid her gaze to the new chicken coop, already starting to darken with weather. The chicks were now teenagers it seemed. The big coop was looking rather small, and it was one of the hens that had to go. 

She sighed heavily and curled her long straight hair behind her ear. "Just don't pick Maela," she said.

Frodo pressed his mouth and closed his eyes, trying not to chuckle about it. "I won't hurt Maela. I promise."

She disappeared back into the house so she wouldn't have to face the murder. Frodo looked at the chicken coop. Which chicken would break her heart less? 

He shook his head and laughed. "Now, I can't even do it!" 

Dusk was falling, so he gave up and decided to thin out the coop tomorrow. 

Frodo was still shaking his head at himself when he moved into the front room, but Lauren was already opening the door for a visitor. 

It was Dalia, Rosie's little sister. "Frodo! Come down to the pub! Peregrin Took and Bailey Bracegirdle are announcing their engagement!"

Frodo's eyes warmed instantly. He grinned to Lauren with a question in his smile. "Wanna come?"

Lauren face blossomed. He handed a cape over to her and he took his coat. Dalia skipped back out to the street. "I'm off to get Rosie and Sam!"

The pub was louder than its usual loudness. On the top of a table, Pippin and Bailey were holding hands and carrying on two different conversations to those who came to inquire. The usual crowd was getting thicker, and Frodo took Lauren's hand to get her through the mess, just so she wouldn't get lost along the way.

Bailey's family were already dancing and starting to drink, and a few of Pippin's cousins dribbled in. Merry was just then hopping up to sit on top of the table next to Pip with a half eaten apple in his hand and a scowl on his face. "What's this you telling the whole town before _me_?"

Frodo was came up right behind Merry, and Lauren was still on Frodo's hand.

Pippin turned and smiled, welcoming them with a single open arm. He turned defensively to Merry. "I only asked her a thirty minutes ago! And most of that time was spent listening to her father."

Frodo laughed at this.

Pippin pleaded for Merry's forgiveness. "I tried to break away, but I've been tethered ever since." He held up his left hand to show them the white skin, long nails, and bracelet-adorned wrist that was attached firmly to it. Her palm was firmly affixed to his whether he was holding hers or not. He smiled and tried to shake it off like some clingy piece of dirt, but it wouldn't go. "You see?" He smiled bigger and brighter than usual and closed his fingers around hers as he lowered the evidence. "It's hopeless."

Bailey spun on her bum to turn around to that side of the table, now that Pip's friends were showing up. She batted her eyes with victory at Rose and Lauren too. Sam stepped up behind Lauren's shoulder, with Rose behind his, smiling as wide as the rest of them. "This deserves a whole pint!" Sam offered across the distance. 

Pippin's eyes started to light up at the thought of whole pint, but then he felt the woman curling up into his left shoulder. Pippin's delight faded strangely, still locked eyes at Sam, and winced a little as he said it. "Perhaps just a half would be better."

The silence of shock fell among the gang like the last symbol crash of a joke. 

Bailey looked more surprised than anyone else did. She tucked in to his ear and whispered through a white smile.

Pippin's blue eyes brightened again. "Except on special occasions!"

Frodo's brows lifted into his forehead and his mouth opened for a full laugh. He turned to Sam who shared the same surprise and delight. Merry tucked in to ask Pippin a secret question. Sam and Frodo moved off, only now letting go of the hands they were holding, and moved like an evilly planning pair to the bar. 

Lauren watched Frodo go and rubbed her palms together. Rose pointed up to Bailey, mouthed the words, and touched her own breast bone. "Tie your bodice back up, luv. You're boobs are fallin' out."

Bailey freaked and let go of his hand to tie her bodice back up. Lauren slapped her hand over her mouth. Rose threw her head back and laughed.

There was a lot of loud laughter that night, a lot of loving accusations, innocent stories, and sniggers in beer. They all sat at the same table, save for an empty spot just for Pippin and Bailey when they were able to come by. Other townsfolk stopped by often to talk to them, telling stories and making comments about Peregrin Took, or Bailey Bracegirdle, or both.

For the first hour, Frodo sat sitting at the table with his elbows around his beer and with Lauren right next to him. He was having a good time tonight. The delight he felt for Pippin's happiness was pouring out of his soul in smiles and laughter, but he kept tucking back to glow at the woman by his side under the guise of asking her a calm question or two.

Then Sam stood up tall. "I think it's time to start dancing." He slapped his hand on the table top, put down his beer and picked up his wife's hand. They moved to the lantern-lit patio that was already bouncing with skirts and work shirts.

Frodo's eyes flared frightened at Sam's back. _Don't leave me?!_  At a complete loss, Frodo ducked to swig at his half pint and glanced back at Lauren to see if she expected a dance too.

Lauren tried to smile, already radiating the disappointment on her face.

Merry saw the problem and stood up to lean across the table at her. "Lauren, my love." He put a hand out, "Would you permit me?"

Frodo's eyes went even wider. He sat up. 

Lauren took Merry's hand and moved around the table with him, but fiddled with the bone ring on her neck. She flicked her middle finger at it and gave Frodo a taunting glare.

Frodo huffed and took a pouting swig of his beer, but soon fell into a daydream as he watched Merry teach her how to do the dance. She kept glancing over at Frodo though and he'd just smile quietly back at her. She'd watch her feet as she jumped and laughed as Merry pretended his foot was smashed beyond recognition. Soon enough, they were jumping around the grassy, lantern-lit patio as fast and as wildly as everyone else and Lauren was moving too fast to pause and look back to Frodo anymore.

He blinked out of his daze and gazed the big loud pub, surprised that he'd been sitting by himself for a while without someone approaching him. He stretched his arms and saw Pippin and Bailey off at the other end of the bar. Bailey was in front of him, he had his arms around her shoulders, and they were both talking to Mrs. Bracegirdle about things they didn't want to have to worry about tonight. Sam was off in another corner with Rose. Their dancing had settled to a slow cuddle. Sam had his palm on her abdomen and his forehead on hers with sparkling eyes.

Frodo grinned and looked back over to the dancers on the patio, but Merry and Lauren were gone.

He sat up alert and looked around more. The worst of visions filled his mind. He pulled his legs out of the bench and stepped away from the table. His mouth parted. His eyes shifted worriedly. 

"Frodo?" Kristana asked, "Are you all right?" The champagne blonde had been sitting at the next table most of the evening with a few other young Bracegirdle mothers, but the others had gone off to dance to leave Kristana sitting alone. 

Frodo looked at her, alarmed by her presence, and rattled his head. "I'm fine." 

Despite his claim, Frodo hopped over another misplaced bench to look around the L-shaped bend of the bar. He caught the eye of a few people, but most turned quickly back to their conversations. 

Kristana was the same age as the rest of them, but her dark blue eyes were wiser. "Perhaps you should have danced with her."

The light in Frodo's eyes started to wither away. They turned to the air trying to figure out what to do or how to feel. 

"They stepped out front, Frodo," Kristana told him with a sympathetic smile. 

Frodo looked Kristana in the eyes that time. She was several feet away and behind a large table cluttered with half-eaten food and mostly empty beer mugs. She had an easy smile of confidence on her face and somehow seemed to know exactly what was going through Frodo's mind. 

"I wouldn't worry."

Frodo wasn't sure why he was sharing this moment with her. He hardly knew Bailey's sister-in-law. He turned away without a word. He stepped on the bench, then up on the table, and dashed across the room. He dodged empty beer steins and held onto rafters so they wouldn't bump his head as he went. He said his polite apologies as he passed by and stepped in the middle of occupied tables, but shocked patrons leaned back and gasp, laughed and cursed at him for doing it.

He jumped down with both feet at the door and the cool night air breathed doom on his face as he moved outside. Three street lamps were lit and the stars were out. A small collection sat on crates and empty kegs on the front, smoking pipes and telling old stories. Friends were drinking in pairs and threes near the pond and lover's cuddled as they strolled into the darkness and over the bridge. 

Frodo stuffed his hands in his pockets to keep from looking too anxious and out of place. He stepped out a few more paces away from the pub and looked around for a girl with straight hair and a hobbit that was about to have a broken nose.

"Frodo!" Lauren called to him.

He spun around. She and Merry were sitting on the kegs near the end of the building, where the lantern lit back porch of the place was flowing light onto them. She was on one keg, swinging her short peg legs, and he was on the other with his arms crossed so tightly at his chest that his hands were in his armpits. He was explaining things that were far too serious for a night like this.

Lauren was still listening to him even as she waved Frodo over with a weak smile, and turned her attention back to Meriadoc before the other got there. 

Merry looked up at Frodo with heaviness in his eyes. "Thank you for the dance, Lauren." Merry stood and was already stepping back away from the whole thing, looking rather thankful that Frodo showed up. He put a hand out to Frodo, yielding before he was even challenged, and dipped around the corner to disappear.

Her eyes had already turned to him long before Merry wholly stepped away. Frodo looked dumbstruck down at her. 

She smiled shyly and folded her small hands on her knees. She peaked from under her brows.

With lips parted and breath caught, Frodo sat down on the other beer keg. He looked in his hands for a clue, but found nothing. He glanced over at her.

She grinned uncomfortably.

Frodo didn't know what was said, or what she was expecting. He had no idea what to say. It felt like a conversation had already started; like she was waiting for an answer to a question she hadn't yet asked.  

She tucked her palms to lean on the keg by her knees and locked her elbows nervously. "Pippin and Bailey look happy." She sparked, as if to just start a conversation, any conversation.

Frodo blinked over to her, terrified. His smile never made it to his face. "Yeah, they do." He didn't mean to, but he dropped the end of that rope and let the topic fall to the floor.

Lauren pressed her mouth and slid her eyes away.

She knew he liked her. He knew she liked him. Neither of them had any evil intent. Why was this so insanely impossible? Frodo gritted his teeth and smiled madly at this. Then his eyes fell upon the bone ring resting against her neck. He closed his mouth and swallowed the new lump in his throat. 

Lauren's soft sparkle was on him again, but it was sparkle of humor. She smiled outright and leaned over to whisper loudly to him. "Just ask me to dance, you fool!"

Frodo tucked in to laugh about it and lifted a brighter face at her. 

He sighed happily. She smiled cautiously back.

Frodo moved to his feet and firmly grabbed her hand. He didn't need to ask after that. He just dragged her back around the building to the dance floor, took her by the hand and waist, and started spinning her around.

The night was a blur there after. The laughter and music felt far away. Pippin's and Bailey's beaming faces came in and out of the scene. Sam was laughing jokes, and like a permanent fixture, Rosie was on his arm. But all Frodo really focused on was Lauren: the way she smiled at him, the way her eyes twinkled when she laughed, and the way the bone ring danced against the hollow of her throat when they spun around in circles.

He couldn't tell if they'd been dancing for two hours or five, and still he would have kept dancing, and she would have let him. She didn't tire or ask for air. The dancing just slowed down. It was like she was afraid it all would shatter if she let him sit down again. Frodo felt much the same way, that if he sat down, if they went home, he'd be too nervous to say anything.

Finally, the bar was emptying whether they liked it or not. Pippin and Bailey had disappeared hours ago. Sam and Rosie slipped quietly away to sneak a tumble in the grass before they went to pick up the baby from Grandma Cotton's. Merry was seen drinking with Kristana once upon a time, but he was also seen going home alone after that.

Frodo spun her around one last time and Lauren tumbled into him, exhausted and gleeful and kept a grip on his fingers even after they stopped twirling. They talked just barely about being tired and thirsty, but even those words echoed away like it was only a dream.

Frodo chuckled and tried to adjust his hand in hers as they made it outside, but it felt weird without an index finger to grip with. He had become accustomed to the missing fingertip, but holding a hand with a girl was a new thing since they'd returned.

She must have sensed it, for she took his hand and weaved her fingers softly into his such that a missing fingertip made no difference. Frodo grinned back at her as he slid it into a comfortable grip, ducked near-blushing smile. She kept up to his side, bumping fondly against his arm from time to time as they climbed over the bridge. They were perfectly silent – too nervous to say anything. The breeze picked up with a chill, and so she kept snuggled into his arm, almost behind it at times, and Frodo held her hand close and cozy the entire walk home. 

_~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~_

**_The Path Peregrin Took_**

"Eh, look at that," Pippin commented fondly from behind dark shadows. In the distance, they watched Frodo and Lauren holding hands and strolling like lovebirds across the bridge. "His days are numbered." 

Bailey smiled. The back of her raven head was on the front of his shoulder. Her hair had been let down and large, soft curls were draped randomly over his shoulder. His fingers wove into hers around the back of her hands, his arms wrapped her arms around her waist. Pippin leaned against the trunk of the tree, straddling its giant bough as though it was a saddle, and Bailey sat spooned into his body and lap like he was the perfect coat.

"He needs it," Bailey finally said.

"Yeah, but he won't let himself have it." Pippin grumbled wisely.

Bailey would have slapped his knee if she had control of her own hands. "That's not what I meant."

He smirked, but his tone was mature. "That's not what I meant either."

He was holding her as firmly as if he was afraid he was going to drop her. She was nearly balled up in his lap, tucked back into his torso just as desperately. They had been chatting casually, but their bodies were strangely fused together with fear. Behind a gentle curtain of oak leaves, they watched the pub empty, the pond sparkle, and a bunch of happy hobbits drag themselves home.

The pair was twenty feet in the air. No girl got far with Peregrin if they couldn't (or wouldn't) get into a tree. Bailey and he had been orbiting each other for so long now that the tree had turned into almost a secret hide out for them. It was where they would meet if she had to sneak out of her house. It was where they hid to make out while people were looking for them. It was where Pippin drew up the guts to kiss her for the first time. She was wearing a white dress that day.

It felt like a long time ago. 

A new thought emerged. His sights dropped to the blackness of the woody brush beneath them. The first time he kissed her was a wild moment because Bailey was the only girl, ever, that made him so nervous he couldn't reach over and just pluck a kiss out of the middle of her sentence. Instead, it took him weeks to scrape up the courage to put his mouth on her. 

It made no sense at the time. The word had no meaning in his vocabulary. It was just a word with no definition save for the excuse people used to do things that were really very stupid, things like declare they'd stop drinking so much beer. . . 

Pippin grinned and his stomach sank at the irony. It must have been somewhere in Buckland, because he couldn't remember exactly which pub it was at. He had sat on the table with a half in his hand (and a half already spilled over his shirt) and an arm wrapped around Merry's shoulders. They stomped on the bench beneath their feet in a pounding rhythm to go with the heavy hitting song he and Merry screamed. 

Put your right hand out!  _stomp stomp_

Keep a firm handshake! _stomp stomp_

Talk to me! _stomp stomp_

About that one big break! _stomp stomp_

Spread your evolution! _stomp stomp_

Both far and wide! _stomp stomp_

Keep your contributions! _stomp stomp_

By your side! And 

Stroke me! Stroke me!

_stomp! . . .  stomp!_

The fat bar wench stomped over and yelled at them like trumpet that was out of tune. "Get your arses off the tables and quit singing songs you don't know nothing about!"

Pippin slithered off the table and onto the bench. His eyes were foggy, and his head rocked like he was at sea, but he was still wide awake and alive. "I don't think she knows what that song is about."

Meriadoc hunched down across the table and shook his head, agreeing.

"Perhaps we should demonstrate." 

Merry snorted into his beer. He hunched low behind the mug and shifted mischievous eyes to the fat, middle-aged bar wench. 

When she started back their direction, Pippin threw his shoulders back, pushed himself to rise from the table with one palm, and fumbled to rip open his trousers with the other.

Merry dropped his mug and snorted again, reaching instantly to yank Pippin's hand away from his fly. "Oh, shit. Pippin! That's not a good idea."

Pippin's head rolled like a football before he managed to give Merry a confused look in the eyes. "Why not?"

Aside from the usual reasons, "The bartender is her husband."

Pippin's head rocked more when he turned back that way. He was so drunk by then that it was a discovery to find there was a bartender behind the bar. It was as though he was being denied a complimentary napkin with his supper. "We can't boink the barwench?" (Not that Peregrin had ever done that before.)

Pippin was surprised he remembered anything at all about that night. He grinned behind Bailey's ear and soaked in the smile of the memory.

"I'm never getting married!" He had claimed, pounding a fist on the table as he sat down again. "I'm gonna spend the rest of my days drinkin' an' eatin' an' smokin' an' runnin' round with other piple's wimin."

"'Cept mine."

Pippin worked to sound official about it. "You don't have a lady so it is not an issue at this time."

"Yeah, but I hope to change that with a certain blondy tomorrow night."

"Tomorrow night?" Pippin belched and sighed a comfy grin. "What's so special about tomorrow night?"

"Were crashing that birthday bash out in Hobbiton, remember?"

"Oh yeah." Pippin smiled childishly. "Gandalf is bringing fireworks."

Merry grinned devilishly and nodded.

Pippin considered Merry's plan. He leaned in on his elbows to whisper secretly over even if he wasn't looking directly at Merry. His blue eyes lit up with sexually related ideas. "I wonder if that dark-haired kitten'll be there. . . ."

Peregrin smiled full beam into the night and turned his mouth into her hair. He drew in a deep, comfortable breath to absorb the feel and smell of her body. He could physically feel it in his chest again: that weird pressure that felt like a fuzzy bubble, reaching out to the rest of his organs with a sweet, addicting ache. It made him want to laugh and cry and lay her down in the grass all at the same time. 

Now that he knew it had a name, it made sense now.

Love. Marriage. Kids. 

Oh. My. God.

They had both been quieted by reality tonight, but maintained holding hands with little interruption. Even if Pippin managed to escape so he could draw strength from a pint or Merry's eyes, he gravitated back to her before too long, wanting to hide away and talk and kiss and whisper and hold, but settled for just holding her hand. There were too many people that needed to lecture him, too many with Took jokes with tones that included an underlying crunch of ice, too many neighbors, jealous school friends, and well wishers in general. . .  most of Pippin's family were missing from the festivities. Of all the pub parties Pippin had ever attended, this one was the least amount of fun. As soon as he could manage it, Pippin took control of the applied ball and chain and dragged her out of there so they could hide away in peace.

Bailey snuggled deeper into him. "Are you nervous about getting married?" These kinds of questions were best asked when one wasn't looking Pippin in the eyes, else he would turn it around and change the subject. 

Pippin hitched a grin as if it were nothing, but his tone was dead serious. "Only enough to nearly to piss my pants." 

She chuckled, "Well try to hold it until I'm _not_ sitting in your lap."

Pippin laughed softly. He tucked in his face next to hers and absentmindedly licked the pointed tip of her ear. "Y'know what I think?"

"What do you think?"

He tucked in a husky whisper. "I think it's going to be a pain in the ass to try to make love you in this tree."

She laughed quietly but draped her head back against his shoulder. 

His hands finally let hers go but only so they could slide back to her elbows and grope behind them to her waist. They inched up her sides. "You think I'm kidding."

Although she didn't stop his hands, she hitched to argue his expectations. "You waited this long."

"Hm." He inhaled proudly through his nose and examined the flesh behind her ear as if it were a sandwich he was preparing to bite. "Yeah, but you're father's not gonna let us tie the knot until I have a house to put you in, remember?"

Bailey shriveled a little. She'd already forgotten. She didn't want to have to worry about that tonight.

Pippin hands stopped moving because of the instant turn of mood. He rested the side of his chin on her head and took in the sight of her toes and the white ruffle of her powder blue dress.

Bailey watched and listened to the fading glory of the wild night for a minute longer. "Damnit," she finally huffed.

"Today is not the day to worry yourself with it," he told her gently.

"I know," she smiled a little. . .  and then cuddled deeper into his arms.

Pippin felt her mood soften again and reached his tongue out of his mouth. He suggestively licked the pointed tip of her ear again.

Bailey's eyes fell closed. She turned her head so her ear was easier to reach.

He tried to sit forward a little more so he'd have a wider range of flesh to choose from, but his balance wavered when he leaned to do so. "Let's get out of this tree."

"I think I'm safer in the tree." Bailey smiled, teasing him with her tone. 

He took in a long slow breath and whispered it out with such aim that his breath danced across her ear. "Don't want to make love to your future husband, _Mrs. Took_?"

Her whole body swelled up at that, and he was shining with evil intent by the time she'd shifted sideways on the bough to look him in the eyes. "That's hitting below the belt, Pip."

His head danced to and fro. "That's where I was aiming."

She snickered even as his kiss dove behind her ear. She made a noise as she sighed and slipped her fingers into his hair. In less than a minute, her face was dumbstruck, her mouth was open, and Pippin was still working methodically to arouse every inch of her flesh.

"Pip?" She whispered, "We need to get out of this tree."

_~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~_

**_The Other Ring_**

From this part of the house, it was impossible to see that the sun had already gone done and night covered the sky. A cheery fire crackled in front of him, filling the air with the winter-warm smell of toasting pinewood. The tiny couch looked like it was meant to pose as sleigh. Brick-colored upholstery was dressed with round pillows with big buttons in the center. Frodo was sitting in the middle of the couch as he unfolded the letter. One elbow was his knee so he could keep it in his sights as the other hand took down two buttons of his shirt. He reached his right hand under his collar and rubbed at his aching left shoulder as he read.

_Dear Frodo,_

_What a delight to receive a letter from you! And a delightful topic within it! A girl! Now, that's worth drinking for! I was telling my cousin just the other day that it was fine time you settled down and bred a few dozen hobbits of your own. He agrees with me wholeheartedly! It takes away a bit of fun in the fighting if you can't enjoy a few of the spoils of war._

_I took serious note of your predicament, but if you're mining the mountains for clues on this girl, lad, you're digging in the wrong place. The child you describe is far from dwarf, as you so mentioned in your note. I would suggest you inquire the lands of Gondor. I hear they are still visited by smallish men from the southern continent. If nothing comes about however, I dearly suggest you take the opportunity that has befallen you and take what you will. Tell no one I've admitted this, but there are some things war cannot teach a man. Go, young lad, and learn._

_Cheers, Gimli_

His mouth winced with frustration. He closed his eyes and tossed the single sheet of parchment to a table beside him. 

Lauren stepped up with a teacup and saucer. His hand continued to rub absentmindedly as he took it. He glanced up at her. "You're not having any?"

She sat down daintily at the furthest end of the couch and put her hands in her lap. "No. I don't want any."

Frodo slid a grin over to her. "You don't have to stay up for me."

She pulled in a sudden and deep breath. "No. I know. I'm not ready to go to bed yet, I'm just," a touch of a blush kissed her cheeks, "wondering if I should."

He knew what she spoke about. They had accidentally bumped into each other in the garden today. Both stopped cold and stared face to face for several heartbeats before they smiled with shyness and apologized to each other. 

Frodo turned his face back to her with a lightened voice. "You've been a guest in my house for nearly two months. Why are you concerned with my restraint now?"

She shrugged a shoulder. "I don't have a lot to go on, Frodo." This was teasing now. "What assurances can you give me that your level of restraint is trustworthy?"

Frodo blinked in amazement at the question. A deep chuckle sounded in his chest. He had a half a million witnesses to confirm he had better restraint than anyone else in Middle Earth, but that would have been too much to explain. He tucked to look back at her again, and this time met her eyes smiling. "I guess I don't have any assurances to give you."

Her head tilted to try to read how expression matched his statement, but came up dry. "Would you like me to get a hot wrap for your shoulder?"

Frodo didn't realize he was still rubbing at it. He pulled his hand out of his collar. "I don't know if that'll help. There's a storm coming tonight."

"Have you ever tried it?" She asked, standing again.

Frodo shook his head. 

She stepped out of sight down the hall to the kitchen.

"And get yourself some tea!" He called.

He heard her sighing with loving impatience. "All right, all right."

When she came back, she had the tea and a medium-sized, steaming-hot towel. She stepped in the small space behind his side of the couch. "What kind of an injury was it: a broken bone or a flesh wound?"

Frodo closed his eyes with a sad prayer as he sat up and started unbuttoning his shirt. He knew what topic this would lead to. He wasn't sure if he was ready, but better sooner than later. He never answered her question. She'd figure it out soon enough. "You don't seem to be so nervous this time," He commented as he pealed  the shirt off his shoulders. 

"This is medical." She said simply, "It's differe—

Frodo's eyes fell softly closed. 

Several heartbeats passed in silence. He could feel each and every one of them as a mean throb, deep in his shoulder, and stabbing deeper and deeper as he waited for her to say something.

Her fingers touched his shoulder blade, where the sword had come out, but the touch was only tactical. There was more ache than that.

She wrapped the towel over his shoulder so that it hung back to the exit wound as much as it did on the entrance wound above his breast. She had another towel, a dry one, so she could wipe away the few hot dribbles that tried to escape. Then stepped around to the front of him and lowered to her knees, smoothing down the towel as she went until it rested snugly against his skin. She reached in only to wiped off the drops that tried to dribble down to his stomach.

Her eyes flicked to the equally ugly scar on his stomach and then she forced herself to focused only on what she was doing.

Frodo watched the discomfort in her eyes. He could see the questions burn in her throat. He began to understand Pippin's problem about talking to Bailey.

"How does that feel?" She asked.

"Much better," he whispered and put his palm against the hot towel on his breast.  "Thank you." 

She stood took up her tea.

Frodo just stared into the fire her body had blocked only a  moment ago. "So," he said with the enforced brightness of casual conversation, "What were you and Mister Meriadoc Brandybuck talking about outside the pub the other night?" He glanced over, "Or is that none of my business?"

"You." She said simply and sipped her tea.

"Is that so?" He sounded indifferent, but his mind flipped.

Her eyes looked back. "You're friends are very protective of you."

"What did he say?" Frodo pushed himself to sit up, yanked out a couple of round pillows from behind him.

"I asked a question I shouldn't have," she admitted. "He told me to be patient."

He settled against the back of the couch, uncaring that he would get the upholstery wet. The heat and position felt good to his shoulder. "You're starting to get into a bad habit of that: asking questions you shouldn't," he grinned at her.

"They were far different questions, about far different things." She took another quiet sip. "I've realized that I'm simply asking the wrong people."

The 'right people' included no one other than him. He scooted a little into the corner so he could rest his head on a throw pillow, lay back, and look at her all at the same time. "I heard about what you asked Rosie. You weren't wrong to ask, but Sam's right, you should have come to me first."

Brown eyes reflected the fire with orange flickers. "Do you know how I figured out it was a war?"

Frodo licked his lips. His eyes dashed down. "How?"

"I shined your silver and steel. It was all tarnished from years without being cleaned. It took me days to get through it all without sacrificing other chores."

Frodo nodded slowly, already knowing the clue she had caught.

Lauren's brown eyes shifted over to him. "But that sword you have hanging in the writing room. It's been used more recently. It's been cared for and shined up. It's even been taken off the wall and put back again several times since I've been here."

Frodo's eyes were still at his lap. His tongue played guiltily with an eye-tooth. "But you never cleaned the sword."

Her chin lifted with pride. Her eyes moved back to the fire. "Well, whatever it was, it's over. So, I decided it was time to shine the silver and let the sword tarnish."

Frodo's eyes opened to her with a soft shine. "I was on the sidelines. Merry and Pippin saw more traditional battles than Sam and I did."

"That's not what your shoulder tells me." She pointed out respectfully. "You were run through."

Frodo swallowed and wondered why this wasn't as difficult as he expected it to be. "It was the worst of my wounds. And in a way, the best of them: It was the only time any of us could have been rushed to a place where we were given sufficient aide plenty of time to heal. . . . "

She was quiet for several long minutes before he realized his eyes had drifted closed and she was just letting the topic lie there. When he opened them again, she was back to watching the fire.

Frodo sat up and reached over the tall armrest for his tea. "So, what did you ask Merry?"

She put her tea down to the saucer in her lap and watched it. She froze a beat, not wanting to bring this up either, but answered him dutifully. "I asked him if you were all right. I've been getting the sense that I'm intruding. . .  I wanted to know if it would be more appropriate if I left and tried to make my own way."

Frodo eyes changed. He started to sit up.

"He said, no, mostly. He reminded me that amnesia is too easy of an excuse to move in and get comfortable, so he told me to be careful with you. He also said that you had been betrayed pretty harshly, in something that had nothing to do with me, so he told me to be patient with you too."

Frodo had pulled up a knee so he could nearly sit sideways and face her. He adjusted a pillow under his elbow and settled in again. He opened his mouth to say it, paused, and then opened his mouth again. "I had to take a cursed ring to a volcano so it could be destroyed, and it tried to curse me too." He rubbed his lips together stiffly. "I called it a camping accident because it was a long trip on foot across country."

It started raining outside. She leaned back almost as sideways and sadly patted the side of his big foot. "So, that's what happened to your poor feet."

Frodo lifted his head. 

Lauren grinned weakly, trying to keep him from slipping into the depressing mood he was teetering on. 

He sat forward, smiling as much as he tried to sound insulted. "I thought you wanted to hear about all this?"

Smiling eyes rose to meet his. She shook her head. "I do, but not if it's going to send you off lamenting again. It's been such a good day. You've been smiling a lot. And you don't have nightmares on days that you've smiled a lot."

His brows rippled curiously. "I didn't think I was having nightmares that often."

Lauren gave him a friendly grin. "You don't wake up from them most of the time."

Feeling the fear of tremendous exposure, his mouth parted. "Do I say anything?"

He could tell by her eyes that the answer was 'yes'. And it suddenly made sense why she felt she was intruding. 

Frodo's eyes fell closed with a curse that never found his lips. A distant sound of thunder rumbled in the silence.

She touched his forearm shyly, rushing to ease her intrusion. "Most of the time you're just tossing and turning. Sometimes I hear you talk, but rarely is it loud enough to understand a word or two."

He opened his dry eyes to the fire. "A word or two," he echoed distantly. 

"Sam. . . and 'Smeagol' I think," she answered. 

Thoughtfully, he brushed the stump of a finger softly against his lower lip. He couldn't tell her about _that_. Not yet. Not even close.

She sat quiet and sad, not sure what to say, not sure what it meant, but absentmindedly fiddled with the bone tied to her neck. 

Frodo licked his lower lip and sat up again, yanking his mind out of it again. He sighed apologetically at her. "I'm sorry, Lauren. It's not that I don't want you to know. It's just that I don't want to have to relive again to do the telling." _I don't want to admit how much of a cretin I was to my best friend._

She tried to interrupt. "I understand." 

"I already have to relive it so often," he dropped his head and pulled in a wavering sigh.

She rested her hand on the side of his arm, trying to get him to stop. "Frodo, it's all right."

"No," he squinted and rubbed his shoulder again. "It's not. It's not all right."

She saw his friendliness dribble away rapidly and stood up to take the cooling towel off his shoulder. "Here. Let me—

"It's not all right!" He shouted angrily, but it wasn't aimed at her. 

She dropped to sit on her knees in front of him but kept her hands to herself. She didn't seem directly struck by it, but she did realize how many eggshells she was standing on.

He sat up and gritted his teeth at the air. "I did it," he insisted. "It's done. I did what the world needed me to do. I want to go home now. I want to go back." He swallowed through a tight throat. "I've been back for a year and a half and I still don't feel like I'm back. I still don't feel like I'm home."

His voice was already softening again and he stared at nothing in front of him. She rose back to her knees and checked the towel on his shoulder to find it cooling quickly. Another thunderclap sounded through the flue in the fireplace and the rain got heavier outside.

He barely noticed how she was taking it off to wrap his shoulder up in a nearby lap blanket. He just kept complaining. "It's not all right that I'm still trying to figure out what to do next. I'm treated so differently than before, even from my own townsfolk. The estate's running out of estate. I can't sell it and I can't work it, and I can't bring myself to give the news to Sam." He shook his head, "That's not all right."

She rose to her feet.

"I never feel like I'm alone, Lauren." He sat up, angling his eyes to look up at her. His voice rose again, but not with anger. "It's not all right that I can't even sit with a girl without that cursed Ring getting in the way."

She stood up with the cold wet towel in her hand and avoided direct eye contact. "With all due respect, Frodo, it's not _that_ Ring that's getting in the way. It's _this_ one." She thumbed at her necklace and looked him stiffly in the eyes.

He sat dumbstruck for a long minute. She turned away and picked up both saucers. The china sang tiny clanks as she padded quietly back into the kitchen. He watched her moved down the hall and listened to her pour more tea. 

He thought for a moment before shooting out of the chair. The small blanket slipped off his shoulders as soon as he let go. He only stepped to a nearby set of shelves where he found a small, dull hunting knife, and pulled it thoughtfully from its intricately decorated sheath. 

"You want more heat for your shoulder?" She called from the kitchen.

He studied the blade for the wisdom behind his idea. "If there's any left."

He stepped around and watched the fire flicker against the steal of the short four-inch blade. His brows flitted a little. "You're a lot bolder now than you were when I met you."

Her voice was tucked with dry humor as she returned to the smial. "I spent 24 hours locked in a brothel, Frodo. Did you think my first lesson was reading?"

She stopped as soon as she came into the light of the fireplace with a cup in each hand. Her mouth was open. Her eyes fell carefully on the knife.

He twisted his mouth at what she said, then his mind snagged. "I thought. . . " He closed his mouth and lowered the knife. "Perhaps it's not my business."

"Suddenly you give me the right to keep secrets from you?" She watched him sit down and set the knife on his lap. "Of course it's your business." She gave him a cup of tea. "Everything is your business." She explained and sat down again. "I'm in your care. I'm in your employ." She sighed and shrugged motioning for him to lean over. "Ask me anything."

"All right," he said quiet, even and charmed all over again. He looked her in the eye even if she was focused on putting the towel back on his shoulder. "What happened at the brothel that makes you so bold now?"

She leaned forward to him and carefully tucked the towel over his shoulder. She didn't move back though. She gently put her palm against the top of his breast to press the heat into the ache. "Nothing happened _to_ me," she told him. "But I saw things. I heard things. I know what would have happened if Merry hadn't shown up when he did."

His eyes died. He brought up his right hand and found the side of her neck with it. Under his thumb, the smooth skin and strong chords of muscle were taught and clean, save fore a knotted hemp string and a couple of beads. "I'm so sorry." He rested his forehead against her temple and closed his eyes.

She looked beyond his pointed ear and smiled distantly. "I hoped that you would visit the place. I wished all night while I was supposed to be sleeping, that you would get yourself _serviced_ or something." She ducked her chin with a full blush and chuckled tightly. "Because then you'd find me." Her voice got tighter and smaller, "And anything would have been forgivable if you would only come and find me."

His eyes opened to the knotted and frayed hemp string and narrowed in on the small ring of bone. It was slightly shiny, and somehow reflected the flickers of flame. The whispers began to ensnarl his soul. . . 

She closed her eyes and grinned anew. "It never crossed my mind to hope for Merry."

Frodo grinned with her. His thumb brushed up her neck and under her ear. His fingers tucked the straight hair deeper behind her shoulder. He wondered if she noticed he was touching her.

"And you know, one of the first things he said to me before we tried to get out of there?" She tucked back to smile at him in the eye. "He said, 'he'd have me back to 'my blushing self' by the time we found you.'"

Frodo smiled thankfully at the image of Merry. He knew now, deep in his soul, that there was nothing to worry about should Lauren and Merry spend time alone. 

But Smeagol's voice started whispering with the rest of them. Frodo closed his eyes and scolded himself for not knowing that about Merry all along.

It was raining steadily now, sending a comfortable drum against the hill they snuggled alone under. Lauren chuckled softly and adjusted her palm back to the spot it needed to be on his chest. Her eyes were turned to watch the expression on the side of his face, even at such close quarters. "So I sense you like it when I blush, for you have apparently reported it to the lads."

The whispers were suddenly beaten back into the recesses of his mind. He smiled wide, but his eyes were still affixed on that hemp on her neck. He picked up his left hand and touched her forearm, sliding up to the back of her hand and holding it against the towel. He wanted to kiss her, he wanted to tuck in just a few inches closer and put his lips on her temple, but couldn't take his eyes off the ring. 

Frodo flushed. He started to laugh about it.

She tucked in, almost kissing his cheekbone as she looked. "What?"

One blue eye turned over to her. "I need to take your necklace off."

One brown eye smiled back. She closed her eyes and lifted her chin so he could have it.

Frodo leaned back to reach for the knife, deliberately dropping the wet towel along the way, and settled in front of her with it. "Don't move," he whispered.

 He put the point of the knife against her jugular vein and let the blunt side of it slide coolly against her skin. He pulled the blade against the hemp and sawed a little to get it to come loose, but when it did, his whole demeanor slowed like he'd been instantly drugged.

Frodo blindly set aside the knife on the nearest flat surface, but his other hand moved intensely up from her waist. Three fingertips drew gentle lines up her stomach and over her bodice. His thumb dragged slowly up her breastplate to her collarbone. He cupped the string and watched the ring spill from her neck into his palm. 

His fingers and palm trapped it against her skin and softly pushed it away. It was like brushing away the dust from the pages of a book, a single sheet of cotton from a naked leg, a sprinkle of autumn leaves from a ripe melon. It wasn't sticky. It didn't look at him. No one screamed. No one fought. Smeagol wasn't there. Sam didn't care. He could have it, or he could get rid of it, and it was nobody's choice but his own. A mountain of fear and anger and struggle was strangely missing. The whispers had silenced. All that pain and all these years, he slid away the weight of the Ring and drop it to the floor. . .  just like that.

The bone clicked quietly against the tile and broke in two.

And all that was left was a trembling woman still offering her naked neck.

His palm returned to her face and pulled it over to him. Lauren turned willingly and blindly reached for his mouth. He pressed his lips against hers the first time, but that only lasted a few seconds. He pulled away for a blind breath, adjusted only enough to get closer and kiss her again. He pushed her mouth open this time, brushing the tip of his tongue against hers until they were both breathless and frozen. 

He tried to think, but his mind had stopped functioning.

This was clearly going to be a completely different kind of curse.

As he froze for an extra heartbeat, she leaned forward, just a smidgen, and welcomed him to do it again. There was no thought before he kissed her again. It was deliberate and excruciating. The more tender his mouth, the more intense it felt. So incredibly sweet that his mind had no more senses to scream with.

His fingers went into the hair behind her ear, his thumb brushed against her jaw line. She was already gasping for breath, so he turned his mouth down and tenderly tasted that neck he'd been staring at for so long. 

Her fingers slid into his hair to keep him there. Her breath had quickened to the point of making tiny noises into his ear, and he suddenly had the need to bite her, though he managed enough cognitive power not to. He pulled his mouth from the nape of her neck and rested his forehead on hers to calm his breathing. Those noises were bound to escalate things higher than either was prepared to go today.

He bit his lower lip, closed his eyes, and smiled. 

Her whisper smiled too, "Does this mean I can stop pretending I'm married?"

His eyes peaked open to look down at her face. "You never really adopted the idea anyway."

Lauren smiled full white teeth at him. She tucked in to look him in the eyes and let her smile fall away only enough to motion a request for another kiss.

One hand traveled around the back of her shoulder and down her arm to clasp with hers. The other dribbled its three fingertips back down her neck and over a swell in her bodice before moving to take control of her other hand. He grabbed her hands and pulled her back as he started to get up. 

And she followed him, but her eyes opened as she came to her feet and started to fill with fear when he started to pull her away.

"Trust me." He pulled her gently backwards by her hands.

She kept trying to pause, eyes widened momentarily as she realized where he was leading her. He'd stop just enough to press a soft, caring kiss on the lips, and then he'd pull her back again. It was with those sweet little reminders that taunted her back to her bedroom.

He guided her backwards. "Lay down." He pulled the blankets back behind her.

She started to grin with uncertainty. She looked down at her full skirts, long sleeves pushed to the elbows, and a bodice that had been tied into a double knot. 

He chuckled deep in his throat. "We're fully clothed," he agreed with strength of decision in his voice. He glanced at his bare chest and shrugged a shoulder. "Well, clothed enough." Even if he didn't go on assuming she was someone else's wife, he wasn't going to forget that she wasn't his wife either.

Her smile beamed in the darkness, but a nearby thunderclap startled her out of her moment. By the time she turned back, Frodo had climbed into the bed next to her.

She was a little stiff as she tried to find his expression in the darkness. He pulled the blankets over both of them. When his arms wrapped around her, Lauren understood. She melted into his body and smiled into his neck.

The thunderstorm continued to rock and roll outside and rain was coming down in drops the size of cumquats, but Frodo settled in so peacefully around the body of this girl that he drifted off to sleep with a smile literally resting on his mouth.

The fresh rain cleaned the air of its dust and farm smells until only the blossoming flowers and new grass sweetened the breeze. Cardinals sang as the played around in the nest they built yearly outside his bedroom window. The sun was warm and patient, glowing bright green on the back slope of the hill. The bedroom was dark and cluttered. The pillow was soft and familiar. The blankets were gentle and snuggly. Every part of his body was comfortable, even his mind.

Frodo was in no hurry to wake up. His eyes opened slowly. A sleepy smile spread across his face. He didn't know what day it was and he didn't really care. All he knew was that he was home and safe and loved. Nothing was out of place. Nothing was missing. 

As his mind became more awake, he felt the pinch of twisted trousers on his waist. He rolled to his back and palm fell onto his breast to find his chest naked. For the moment, it was the only thing uncomfortable in the whole world. He reached his arms out above his head and stretched his muscles to wake up too. When he deeply inhaled the new day he caught a whiff of hot coffee and fresh applebread.

His brows tucked with confusion. _Where in hell did Bilbo get fresh applebread?_

His stretch stopped. _Bilbo's not here._

Frodo sat up in a shot and looked around his bedroom. His shelves weren't cluttered as his mind had imagined. His toys and stones had been replaced with polished silver and sleek glass trinkets. His books weren't stacked on the floor; they were lined up and held together with bookends. On the coat hook, his tobacco pouch had been replaced with braided laces long enough for a woman's bodice.

A pot clanked clumsily in the kitchen. "Youch," Lauren peeped, quickly nursing a pinched finger. 

Frodo's breath tumbled out in a big smile. His eyes sparkled like cool, clear water and danced around the room to soak up the little feminine changes in his old bedroom, finally falling onto a dried bar of jasmine soap.

His face filled with wonder at the feeling. He muttered it with serene delight. 

"I'm home."

_~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~_


	3. Part 3 Sam

**_Liquor Leaf and Ladies - Kesselia Banta_**

**_Part 3 – Sam_**

Something's different and Frodo isn't saying what. The silence only amplifies the whispers that still echo in the back of Sam's mind. His narrow eyes keep on the lookout for his friend's safety and soul, and his concerns are again being brushed off. In truth, the trouble doesn't lie with Frodo's blossoming relationship with his housemaid, and there is only one person in Middle Earth that can say it in words that Sam will hear. Enter Rosie: the woman that was there all along.

**_Extortion_**

**_Message from Gondor_**

**_Legolas Visits_**

**_A Feast_**

**_Bagshot #3_**

**_Elfish Exam_**

**_Madly_**

**_Bilbo's Fortune_**

**_Lauren Confesses_**

**_Galadriel_**

**_The big bed was juuuuust right._**

**_Sam's Midnight Bottle_**

**_The Jinhai_**

**Frodo the Dog**

~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~

****

**_Extortion_**

The May sun was shining down on the town common, vendors called out the prices of their wares, and the street was moderately crowded with nothing but Hobbits. The mill was busy with the early blooms, and sacks of stone-ground wheat were being loudly bartered over. Red and black butterflies fluttered over yellow wild blossoms. Young girls huddled to whisper and glanced back to a playful collection of young boys. It was a normal day.

Liam Bracegirdle looked like a giant grape with tiny sausages for arms and legs and sat with a similarly graying and roundy man outside the pub, slurping up afternoon ale and making bold statements that justified his every right and opinion. "Well now, my daughter thinks she's marrying a Took. A Took! Of all the trash she could have dragged home with her!"

"Trash?" Otho Sackville-Baggins was stiff and quiet. "Did he not bring family money with him to the table?"

"He did not." Liam lifted his chin at the atrocity. "He wanted to steal her off to the hall in Tookbank!. My little girl will live in no hall I tell you. I'm not giving over my blessing until he's got a respectable place right here in Hobbiton. If he wants her bad enough, he'll do it. But I know he will."

"He's always been a bit of a troublemaker, that one." Otho agreed as he chewed on the tip of his pipe. "Keeps stealing Maggot's cabbages, I hear. For a servant class, I can forgive it. But with all that Took money a day's stroll away -- that boy's hardly starving."

"I'll give Bailey a year or less. She'll give up on him soon enough. He just better keep his grubby hands off her in the mean time." He slurped up a new chug from his tall mug. "When my son gets home, he'll be sure to strong arm Peregrin off, but until then I still have old Chookbitten's sword over my mantle," he sat up and wagged a sausagy finger, "and I'm not afraid to use it."

Otho narrowed his dark eyes into the sun to look across the river and up the road to the Hill. "They been spending a lot of time up at Bag End, you said." He looked back over at Liam, "You don't think he's courting Frodo Baggins for a slab of the land, do you?"

Liam's face paled a bit. He looked out over the same river and up the road toward the same Hill. Liam exchanged serious looks with Otho and then he tried to shrug it off. "It doesn't matter. That there is _your_ land. As soon as you get Bilbo's will overturned, you can claim a wrongful sale and take it back. Peregrin won't be able to support her without Baggins or Took money, and the engagement will fold."

Otho gazed easily over the town square and spoke a little quieter. "The Sheriff won't support my claim. Bilbo left him a great deal of spoils to make sure of that. The Mayor won't get in the middle of it. The next step up would be the head family in the West Farthing, but that is, of course-"

"The Tooks," Liam swore.

"Exactly."

"I must be cursed." Liam grumbled out an indignant groan. "I've got a daughter-in-law _and_ an intended son-in-law that are both going to keep milking my hard-earned goods until I'm dead on a dirt floor!"

Otho's eyes grazed across the town common and snagged on a pair.

Samwise Gamgee leaned his shoulder against the corner of the postal booth. Sam's pants and vest were auburn and burnt orange as if he tried to match his hair today, complete with silky threads embroidered to highlight the paisley print. But the vest was snug around his waist, and his white shirt had deliberately baggy sleeves all the way to his wrists so that no one could tell the extra inch his arms and waist had grown the last two years. Even his eyes had grown up. He used to smile like the sunshine and enjoy as many simple pleasures as children, but now Sam's eyes were melancholy to watch the children play in the fountain.

Frodo Baggins stepped out of the shadowed building with a letter in his hand. He was in a fresh green set of trousers, a finely decorated mustard-colored vest, and a respectable, deep brown coat over his shoulders. The young man dropped his packages between his feet and Sam's to tear the letter hungrily open. 

Otho shifted the angle of his head. His eyes tilted back to Liam. "That mangirl, whispers say he's growing fond of her?"

Liam looked over that way and watched as well. He nodded, "Or so Bailey reports."

Otho looked back at the pair of men outside the postal's office. "I think I know how we might lure the Mayor's concerns towards this direction."

_Dear Frodo,_

_'Tis an honor to receive a note of your confidence and respect. Edoras is in full bloom this spring. We are preparing for a grand festival to remember our heroes that fell at Helm's Deep and celebrate their victory. Although you four Hobbits were not with us during that endeavor, Faramir insists that your sacrifices are symbolized as well, as the victory would have been for naught had you not succeeded. _

_My new husband speaks as often of you as I and asks me to extend grand salutations to you all. I would also like to blow a kiss to Meriadoc's innocent cheek. I pray he his happy and healthy. Please tell him he remains a warm memory._

_In honor of your request, I have inquired the local authorities to report any families or stories concerning Menkind the size of, or near to, Hobbit height. Unfortunately, no good news has come forth. There are occasionally stories of smallish men traveling along the West Road, but there is not but guesses as to where they hailed from or where they were going. I have my rangers alerted to inquire the small folk the next time they are encountered, but as it is often years between sightings, I fear any news will come far too late for your intentions. My deepest regrets that I could not produce effective results. I pray the answers will come to you soon._

_You may not yet have received your invitation to the happy event occurring in Minas Tirith this spring, but I could not pass up this opportunity to tell you all that I look forward to visiting with you and yours during the festivities. _

_Forever in your debt,_

_Queen Eowyn of Rohan_

Frodo dropped the paper to his side with frustration and sighed stiffly. 

"What did she say?" Sam asked. Frodo handed the letter blindly over. 

 Sam took the letter and squinted as he read it. His lips moved a little as his eyes scanned along. Soon enough, his mouth flattened with the same disappointment that Frodo was feeling, and then his brows twitched. 

He folded the letter back into thirds, "With all due respect to Gondor, what happy event in Minas Tirith is worth you traveling out all that way?"

Frodo didn't have an answer right away. He folded his arms at his chest and tucked his chin down to stare at the ground. 

Sam watched him at an angle.

Frodo's head bounced up like an apple in water. "A wedding."

Sam blinked. 

"Aragorn and Arwen were waiting until after the ailed country recovered before they wed."

"Ah." Sam dropped his eyes to the letter in his hands, then lifted them again as he offered it back to Frodo. "I didn't think they'd wait this long."

Frodo grinned as he picked up his stuff again. "They've already waited longer."

Sam shrugged a little and picked up a backpack of new food.

Frodo went quiet. He folded the letter over twice more and stuffed it sadly into his coat pocket.

Sam looked soberly over. "You're going to be holding your breath until you receive news, aren't you?" 

Frodo joined him shoulder to shoulder and they started strolling automatically. "To a degree," he admitted. 

"No news is good news, I suppose." Sam commented quietly. His eyes snagged on something at a vendor's table, but broke loose before his pace slowed. His voice brightened, but there was anger hiding in the tone. "As long as no husband comes to claim her she's all yours, right?"

Frodo's feet stopped, insulted.

Sam had taken a step or two on, but slowed and turned, "I'm sorry, Frodo, but you act like you've taken her already. Or is it her that's taken you?"

Frodo stepped up to him so he could keep his voice down, but wasn't all out angry. "I haven't done anything of the sort. And she hasn't tried to lure me to that end either."

Sam nodded and shrugged a little, not necessarily believing him, but that wasn't the issue. He needed to point it out to Frodo before someone louder did. "Fine."

Frodo lifted a brow at the easy yield. 

Sam looked him in the eye, casual but quiet about it. "Just don't let your guard down too far. It's been bad enough having to watch you suffer with a broken soul from the Ring. I don't want to see you start all over again with a broken heart."

It took a heartbeat to fully imagine what Sam was trying to say, and then Frodo smiled big with appreciation in his eyes. He nodded and stepped out to start walking again. "Thank you, Sam. But I'm all right."

Sam adjusted the sack of new bought groceries on his shoulder and walked with him. They were out of step and shuffled slowly, staying close enough to mutter their conversation privately even in the lively market. 

"You were right about that necklace," Frodo told him. "It worked very well at first, but it started making the rest of us equate Lauren with the evilness of the Ring. It was a bigger relief to take it off of her that I would have thought." He turned and muttered towards Sam's shoulder. "I stopped treating her like she was already married to someone else. This much is true. But she's still not married to _me_. It doesn't take a necklace to remind me of that."

Sam grinned over his shoulder, "Yeah but. . .   how are you gonna hold out? With her living with you and all?" Sam was already chuckling when Frodo lightly shoved him. "I see how hungry your eyes get."

Frodo's voice was no longer quiet and secretive. "I shouldn't think I would have any need to prove my level of responsibility to you or anyone."

Sam nearly snickered at that. 

An innocent onlooker, aged Garisha Bolgers, grinned too and nodded agreement at Frodo as she passed. "You tell him, Frodo." Garisha's seasoned eyes winked at Sam as she turned and walked on.

Frodo crossed his arms and lifted his chin with pride. "See?"

Sam rolled his eyes. 

"Samwise Gamgee!" Mrs. Hildiberth called from her open-faced shop. She was waving him over. "Can I interest you in a pretty new skirt for the Misses?"

Sam tried to smile but whined under his breath. "Oi, those things are expensive."

Frodo glanced a smile over at Sam's predicament.

"And you Frodo Baggins?"

Suddenly, Frodo stopped feeling sorry for Sam.

"Lauren's been in that same dress for months," she stated easily.

They pair stepped up slowly, trying to formulate reasonable excuses, but Mrs. Hildiberth knew her business well. If she didn't make her special sale, she'd mention their decline during afternoon tea, and in good time, their answer (edited for effectiveness) would come back around to bite them in the hindquarters. "Do tell, Mister Baggins. What _does_ she wear when she's washing her one and only dress?"

Although it had been cleaned several times, Frodo didn't realize that until this very moment. "I'm never home when that happens," he pointed out and set a foot on the lower step to face her boldly. "I agree she should have a few options, but I should think _not_ to buy her a new dress lest she get the wrong impression of the gift."

Mrs. Hildeberth, with her tidy curls and rosy but aging cheeks, stood tall on her store's front porch and pretended to take this casually. "Perhaps you could consider paying her a tangible wage so she could shop for herself, Mister Baggins." All this, apparently, had been well discussed and decided amongst a bunch of ladies around a lot of tea.

He scrambled quickly without letting it show in his face. "I don't know what size she is," Frodo said.

"She's a twenty-four inch dress length and thirty inches around the bosom."

His mind stumbled upon thirty inches of tape across the landscape of baby-soft skin and those two blushing little things attached to the tips of them. Frodo blinked hard.

Sam finally stepped up and tapped Frodo's arm with the back of his fingers. "I've an idea." He turned to Frodo and discussed this all in front of Mrs. Hildeberth as if a mediator between the man of the house and the grapevine. "Lauren has been our guest for over three months." He gave a point to Mrs. Hildeberth. "She does need a second dress." And looked to Frodo, "And we do need to concern ourselves with wrong impressions. After all, we are still waiting for responses to all those letters of inquiry you sent to every land in Middle Earth."

Frodo nodded at that as if taking all this in, but he knew it all already. Sam was slyly informing the grapevine of Hobbiton exactly what they wanted the rest of the town to know. 

Sam continued, "My wife has plenty of dresses, and I'm too shy on funds this season to overflow her wardrobe any further. But as Rose and I are friends to Lauren as much as you are, perhaps we could share the cost of a dress, from _all_ of us, as a token of our new friendship."

Frodo gave Sam a deep nod, impressed with the suggestion. Instead of both of them being in trouble for not buying two dresses, Sam bought the tale of Frodo's honorable intentions, kind hearts, and lack of improper business in Bag End for the price of one.

Frodo looked up at Mrs. Hildeberth. "She's not entirely Hobbit. Would you agree to free tailoring if unknown alterations are required?"

Mrs. Hildeberth nodded regally and showed them in, "Of course."

"Orange." Frodo finally pushed on his foot to lift onto the step. "She'd do well in orange."

~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~

**_Message from Gondor_**

Now Frodo had a string wrapped paper bundle slung over his shoulder too. He and Sam walked close enough to mutter improper comments and snicker like troublemaking boys as they lazily climbed up the road to go home. 

Lauren was in Frodo's front yard with hair tied back in a simple string at her shoulders and wet dirt smudged on her skirt. She was pulling just enough carrots and potatoes for supper. She saw them coming from almost a quarter mile away and grinned at how easy and slow they strolled so they could enjoy their talk.

Lauren matched this happy sight up with Rosie's words of comfort. _Don't worry about the liquor or the smoke or the secrets, Lauren. Don't worry about what you don't know. He'll tell you in good time. See how easy he smiles? See how solid their friendship is? These are all good signs. Cultivated it. Don't dampen it with the mundane things we ladies are infamous for. . . . _

She had gathered enough carrots, potatoes, onions and celery to cook more than enough for two people. They were all gathered in a basket beside her in the drying mud when the two men stepped up to the gate. 

"Don't pull the last four rows of carrots yet," Sam pointed firmly to her feet. "They're not ready for another month." 

"Aye, m'lord," Lauren humbly nodded. "You told me that yesterday."

Frodo was oblivious of the intensity of the exchange. Frodo pealed off from Sam to move into his gate. His eyes slid to Lauren with evil sparkles as though she was some forbidden delicacy that he decided to consume anyway.

Lauren was unsure if that look was what she was supposed to cultivate. She shuffled on her small, mud-covered feet, "Mister Samwise?"

Sam paused and turned.

"Would you and your ladies like to come over for dinner this evening?"

Sam lifted an eyebrow, "Do you have you enough for us?"

"I'm roasting a whole chicken." She motioned at the dirty vegetables in the basket. "And I'm collecting accessories as we speak."

Frodo leaned an elbow on the gate and exclaimed with surprise. "You did in one of the chickens by yourself!?"

Lauren smiled- caught- at his response. She pointed over at Sam timidly. "Actually, it's one of his chickens."

Sam was less than charmed. He stomped a few paces back to Frodo's gate. "_What?"_

"And Rose did the doing in," Lauren told them quickly. "We traded you see. Rose and me. Two chickens of equal size and age. That way I don't have to eat a chicken I've raised."

Sam rattled his head, "_What?"_

"It wasn't Maela, was it?" Frodo joked.

Lauren's face blossomed at Frodo's lighthearted response and tried to explain enough to ease Sam's uncertain mouth. "Rose showed me how to bleed and clean a bird for cooking. In return, I'd like to give her a night off from actually cooking it."

Sam exchanged looks with Frodo and sneered over to Lauren, "She knows we've been invited?"

"Well yes, of course she does."

"And she said yes?"

Lauren shrugged. "Wel... yes."

He blatted at Lauren like she was an idiot. "Then why are you asking _me_?"

Frodo smiled.

A grin flickered to life on Lauren's face, "She loves you enough to _pretend_ like you make those decisions."

Frodo tossed his head back with laughter. 

Sam scratched the back of his neck. His eyes narrowed at Lauren, but her comment had lightened his mood a bit. He nodded respectfully at Lauren and promised to be over in a couple of hours.

"Mister Baggins!" yelled a boy in a full run up the hill to them. He was young and dirty, interrupted from playing to rush out and fetch them. "Mister Gamgee!"

Lauren stepped up to the fence with concern. Sam stepped up and Frodo stepped out to meet the boy head on with worry on their brows. "What's the matter?"

"There are riders coming: two knights and two elves." The boy stopped and heaved. "The captain has asked after you. Says he carries a message from Gondor." 

Frodo and Sam exchanged glances. "Did the captain mention his name?" Frodo asked.

The boy nodded as he fought to catch his breath. "The front man claims to be Sir Legolas."

The pair smiled at the news and quickly unloaded the shopping from their backs. Lauren was dumbstruck at all the sudden action as Sam shoved his shopping over the fence at her. Frodo did the same thing with a smile. "We're going to have company. Get cleaned up and put this on straight away." She took the package quizzically.

Sam pointed at the boy, "Fetch Peregrin Took and Meriadoc Brandbuck to Bag End. They'll be a reward for your swiftness."

The boy nodded and took off again.

Frodo continued with Lauren. "Prepare a second chicken. Maybe a third. We're feeding a hall's worth tonight."

Sam reached over the fence to point at her. "Enlist Rosie's help. Bailey's too if you can get her here."

Lauren nodded as she shuffled nervously, ready for action. 

Frodo reached across the fence to put a hand on her arm. "I know you can serve a feast befitting a king's table." He nodded the compliment to her, "Now is the time to honor me with it."

A smile blossomed across her face with big shiny eyes and a blush on her cheeks as if he'd just kissed her. "I will."

Frodo winked at her before turning away and trotted off with Sam.

~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~

**_Legolas Visits_**

They ran back towards town and over the bridge waving at Legolas and his companions. The riders had already drawn the attention of everyone in the town common, and when Legolas bowed his smiling face with regalness at Frodo and Sam, everyone stopped whispering to listen.

"I bring good tidings from King Aragorn of Gondor." Legolas greeted calmly. "The King is taking Lady Arwen as his wife on the April moon this spring. His Excellency expressly requests the company of you and yours to the festivities."

It pulled new, childlike excitement out of Frodo and Sam, and it lit new fires of happy gossip to the grand population of Hobbiton. The rest of the day was frantic with happiness and Bag End was a rush of preparations for visitors.

When the party walked their horses up the hill to Bag End, the Men and Elves towered over Sam and Frodo who rode on the necks of the giant beasts. Merry trotted along, having just met up with them from the fields, and Pippin was waiting in the front yard with Bailey attached to his hand. He stepped out to the road front of Bag End and greeted the visitors with a joke. "Leave it to Legolas to remind us how terribly short we are!"

Bailey stepped back to the porch with Rose and Lauren. Firmly held to a hip, even Elanor watched it all in stupefied silence. Even the most knowledgeable of the ladies had only heard of Legolas, all three of them were sufficiently awestruck at the first sight of the giant horses and tall riders. They fell into an unexpected level of humility.

Four excited Hobbits greeted the four visitors warmly, even if the two Knights and extra Elf had to introduce themselves. One by one, they climbed off their horses, lowered to one knee, and bowed their heads to the hobbits as their names were announced. The knights removed their helmets and showed their smiles to shake hands of honor with them. The elf bowed to the Hobbits with a pleasant and regal smile. 

They tied all six horses to the fence for the time being, not caring that they completely blocked the road from letting anyone else pass. And Frodo ushered them to come and rest from their journey. The eight men dribbled through the gate one by one, but it was Legolas who stopped on the front step first. 

"Now there is a beautiful sight," Legolas commented quietly at the gaggle of ladies, drawing the attention of the boisterous hobbits and the relaxing travelers. He lowered to one knee only to match her height as he bowed his head at her. "You must be the fair Rosie Cotton." Rosie's rosy face was smiling through her shiny red curls. She had on a dress of rich green and white lace, and an accessory of a cheeky, redheaded baby girl in a white calico dress at her hip. It wasn't so obvious at first glance of her, but the bodice was not entirely tied for the swell on her lower belly. She bowed her head honorably at the elf and men.

"Forgive me for correcting you." Sam stepped up proudly beside Legolas. "But that fine lady is Rosie Cotton _Gamgee_, that's our daughter Elanor, and that one there is going to be little Samwel."

Legolas glanced back at Sam. "You've been busy."

Sam beamed proudly. 

"Tis' a pleasure." Legolas told her and looked to the lady next to her.

Bailey had milk colored skin and pink cheeks against a soft bundle of raven colored curls pulled back from her face. Her pale dress was the color of spring cherry blossoms and had the ruffles to go with it. Her lips were cherry red and her white teeth smiled in delighted surprise at the noble manners of these men. 

Sam was there, so he continued. "That there is the lady Bailey Bracegirdle for the time being. She has so thoroughly stolen Pippin's heart that she has already made plans to steal his name too."

"Congratulations," Legolas honored her with a full smile that made the girl blush a little bit more when she thanked him. He looked to the last lady.

Lauren's hair was as straight as Legolas', and though it was brushed down her shoulders, it was clear she had small, round ears. Dark eyes and dusk colored lips matched her honey complexion, but it was the new dress that grabbed Frodo's breath for an instant. As opposed to the green manchild's dress she bought in Bree, this dress was actually designed by a Hobbit. The rich, dark rust skirt was trimmed with silk ribbons. The bushy sleeves accented the thinness of her waist, and the lazy cut of the neckline exaggerated just how much skin wasn't wearing a necklace. 

Frodo was behind Legolas, practically forgotten at the moment, and felt his stomach stir into a drunken soup just by the sight of her. 

Sam fought for the right words to introduce her, but it wasn't her beauty, it was the lack of standard introduction for a woman in her place. "This is... Lauren." The missing last name was suddenly obvious. "She is uh, in Frodo's care and serves as his housemaid until we find her family."

Legolas nodded back, but his brows knitted with confusion, disbelief, or both. "Tis' an honor."

With a look of uncertainty, Lauren nodded obediently to him.

Rose spouted with smiles and welcomes as the barmaid she once was. "Come on in, gents. We've tea and biscuits ready." Rosie turned into the house and started them all moving again. "Take your armor off in the hall, if you please. You'll scratch the furniture."

The front table had been moved to another room and make floor space and the ladies had already laid out thick blankets and large pillows for the Menkind sit and rest. Rosie apparently had taken command of serving the guests down to the finest detail and Lauren was busy in the kitchen, apparently in command of cooking up the giant dinner. Bailey taught Elanor how to serve the men tea in the front room and the little girl's giggle charmed every handsome face that she gazed upon, large and small. 

Frodo didn't think about it that he sat in his fireside chair to talk to Legolas and his companions who were already considered friends. Sam and Pippin took up the other hobbit-sized chairs in the room, all the way down to a stool that had been pulled up for Pippin to straddle as he joked and commented on other tales. Merry rested his folded elbows on the high back of the chair Sam occupied and kicked one foot casually over the other as he leaned. 

It took little time to catch up on the news of other lands and old friends. The tea was fresh and the scones were sweetened with apricots. The women soon disappeared back into the kitchen and left the men to their anxious inquiries and laughing tales. 

"I see an odd number here," Legolas' suspicious eyes slid to Meriadoc with a hint of a grin.

Merry understood the comment a split second before anyone else. "I'm still shopping."

Legolas nodded. "Shop quickly or you'll have an empty chair by your side at the King's table."

Pippin glanced back to Frodo. The idea was worth some thought. "Are you going to take Lauren?"

Frodo's first response was to shake his head. "Not as my housemaid." He leaned back in his big chair and explained. "She's the one I wrote you about -  the girl we found wounded in the pond."

"We've been traveling for two months to deliver invitations." Legolas shook his head softly. "I received no letter."

Sam and Frodo, Merry and Pippin, exchanged fast glances before settling in to tell the tale and query the extensive knowledge of Legolas and his companions.

Tendell was as pale and finely dressed as Legolas. He was first to point out Lauren had Elfish hair, but not Elfish ears, and it was unheard of to find an Elf so small.

Of the two Gondorian Knights: bushy-haired Sir Wallace explained small Menkind were terribly uncommon but hardly unheard of, and easy-smiling Sir Ramsy reported hearing tales that a race of smallish Menkind actually lived in the Southern Continent. Over time, one or two families had ventured up the river into Gondor and even into Rohan to homestead. But he'd no vision of the race being Hobbit-small, so he couldn't verify if Lauren shared a commonality with that belief.

Frodo explained that he was still awaiting responses from Lorien and Gondor. He hoped he would hear word before they needed to leave for the King's wedding so he wouldn't have to take her to Gondor himself. "It wouldn't be appropriate to take my housemaid as my escort."

Legolas' brows tucked just enough to grin. "Housemaid," he echoed the ridiculous notion.

Pippin pointed an accusing finger at Frodo. "The only difference between a housemaid and a wife is where she sleeps."

Frodo draped his elbow patiently on the arm of his chair and took up a sip of tea.

Sam sat forward and sobered his smile, "Actually, Frodo's right, Legolas. Until we have confirmation from her family that she is an unpromised maiden, she should remain no higher than his servant."

Legolas lifted a brow at Sam. "And if, perchance, you never receive any confirmation? What then?"

Merry rubbed his chin seriously. "Hadn't thought of that." Sam glanced at Frodo. Frodo _had_ thought of it and still had no answers. He nodded somberly to Legolas that he had a good point.

Lauren came in at that moment, but clearly ignorant of the conversation that preceded her, and all men slammed their mouths closed.

Lauren stopped at the edge of the room and announced softly. "My lords, there is a bowl of fresh water and towels waiting for you on the back porch. When you are finished washing, supper will be served to you in the back hall."

Legolas, naturally, smiled at her with the most polite of thanks, "You charm us with your hospitality, my lady."

Lauren bowed an honored chin at Legolas, smiled bashfully at him, and flicked her shining eyes to Frodo for a brief second before turning away and moving back into the kitchen. 

The silence remained a long moment before Legolas turned to the small Hobbit in the biggest chair who had clearly settled in as a master of his castle.

"In whatever course your investigation leads you," Legolas said, "I pray the word is good, for Gondor and Rivendell would rejoice to hear of your comfort and companionship."  
Frodo stood and reluctantly thanked him. Legolas came carefully to his feet and followed him out toward the back porch. Pippin was the first to pop up and follow too. "What about me? _I'm _the one that's getting hitched."

Legolas kept his head low to walk through the house and smiled his teeth at Pippin. "Yes, of course, we'll rejoice for you too, Peregrin Took. But you're success is no surprise. With your charms and love of fun, we all knew it was only a matter of time before you attracted the prettiest of the blushing maids."

As planned, Pippin walked taller at the compliment, and it wasn't twenty-four hours before he boasted about the description to Bailey, earning himself a blush, a kiss, and a peek. . . all at Legolas' expense.

~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~

**_A Feast_******

Frodo came back in with clean hands and face with more interest in the discovery than anyone else. The ladies had sent them into the back porch to wash only so they could pull the comfortable seating pads around to the table for their tall guests. They stood to the side as the men came in, dutifully aproned, and proud of their presentation. 

A gentle fire and candelabras lit the hall bright and warm. Three tables were pushed end to end, dressed with two vases of spring flowers and three large roasted chickens. Carrots, celery, tomatoes dressed the platters. Potatoes were served in two forms. Apples were sliced and sprinkled with cinnamon and sugar. Orange slivers were twisted to form flower-petals shapes, and small bouquets of purple grapes dressed dishes as decor. Bread overflowed from straw baskets in hot rolls, crusty loaves, and crunchy flat bread. Three blueberry pies cooled on a shelf and a bottle of wine was already uncorked and ready to be poured.

Sam stopped at the end of the table to comment, "I did not think you're kitchen was this big."

Rosie called out over the table. "It was a multiple kitchen effort, luv." 

"So the mess is at our house," Sam muttered.

The men made themselves comfortable around the table. Hobbit's sat in small chairs and stools, Menkind and Elves sat comfortably on their knees. Lauren motioned Frodo over to the head of the table and poured his brass goblet first. "Shall I eat in the kitchen?" She whispered an offer, as she was supposed to be only his housemaid and appearances mattered today.

Frodo glanced up in surprise and shook his head. "No." He motioned Merry to move over a seat, who did so with quick and silent understanding. Frodo touched her shoulder and pointed to the left hand chair with his middle finger. "Sit there."

Soft laughter and smiling tales filled up the hall as they sat and started to serve themselves. To Frodo's right sat Legolas, who was the first to offer compliments to Lauren for phenomenal meal. Lauren quickly shared compliments with Bailey and Rose as it was very much a group effort. On a bench next to Legolas, Elanor sat between her mommy and daddy, grabbing handfuls from both plates in reach. Next to Lauren, Merry and Sir Ramsy talked of politics as they gathered full plates for themselves. Pippin held Bailey's hand under the table as if no one was supposed to see it, and talked across the table with Sir Wallace about mutual friends they didn't realize they had. At the end, Tendell was half turned next to Sir Ramsy, smiling wide to listen and learn of friends and memories. 

It felt odd to be at the head. Frodo took in the sight of his large and full table surrounded by smiling friends as if he suddenly realized success. Lauren passed him a basket of bread from which he pulled out a dinner roll with a smile, and passed it on to Legolas. "No, we had to fallow the sheep pasture and let it heal. In fact, we're considering plowing out the back side of the Hill to farm a crop strictly for wages."

Legolas pulled a slice of crunchy flat bread from the basket. He passed the basket on to Sam and he looked curiously at the triangle of bread. "What crop will you plant?"

Sam too took out another slice of the curious flat bread. Sun-kissed eyebrows knitted hard and mean.

Frodo sipped his goblet, oblivious at first. "Spinach. Maybe strawberries We're not sure what kind of seed we'll—"

Sam set an elbow on the table so hard that the _thump_ sounded loud and hollow through the hall. He held up the pie-shaped bread to catch Frodo's attention. "This is Lembas bread."

Other's at the table started to quiet at the discovery of Elfish bread at the table.

Legolas asked with strange grin. "Who can I thank for such a compliment?"

"I made it." Lauren swallowed her bite dryly, as she took in Sam's eyes, feeling suddenly in trouble.

Frodo plucked a third slice of it from the basket still in Sam's hands. He was the first to risk a bite. 

Legolas smiled as he looked curiously at it. "What were your ingredients?"

"Flour, shorting, and butter folded over a few dozen times. Seasoned with basil and flavored salt before baking."

Legolas took a nibble with a grin just as Frodo was swallowing. He snuck a strange look over at her.

"Tis a different flavor," Legolas admitted, "but a good one."

Sam looked over. "It's still Lembas bread, isn't it?" Was this a clue to Lauren's roots?

"It isn't Elfish waybread if that's what you're suggesting," said Tendell down the table. "But it carries the same concept, and it's spiced differently." He leaned over to tell Lauren directly. "It's very good."

Merry grinned as he nibbled a sliver of juicy chicken from his fingers. "Perhaps this explains her Elfish hair." 

"But not her ears." Legolas pointed out. He studied her with a soft grin as he settled in to continue eating. His finger waved from his own ear to Frodo's, "Pointed ears and pointed ears do not make round ears. You're certainly part Manchild if nothing else."

Frodo turned to her and lowered his voice, concerned of this clue. "But how did you know the recipe for Elfish bread?"

Lauren shrugged painfully. "I don't know. I thought I just made it up."

Legolas pulled over the dish of potatoes to serve himself up a helping. "It's too complex to make it up. . .  too different." He passed the dish to Frodo. "You learned it from someone." The girl's brows were starting to slant with this news, so Legolas smiled again. "Do not fret. Every clue helps."

Frodo turned to Legolas to inquire how this recipe could have fallen into a woman the size and shape of Lauren and Legolas offered a few possibilities. 

Lauren listened intently as passed the potatoes to Merry, but Merry pulled her attention with a mumbled tucked near her ear. "Don't worry, miss Lauren. Even if we do find your family, you'll not lose _us_." He passed the potatoes on and took her hand under the table, holding it strong with the promise. "Especially Frodo."

Sam heard Merry's comment and tucked his eyes to his dish. There was a knot in his stomach about all this. It didn't help that Meriadoc was already giving his blessing that she stay with Frodo forever.  

Each and every one of them nibbled until the platters were clean and their bellies were full. Rose was relieved before the meal was entirely over so she could to tend to Elanor and then tend to her tired, pregnant self. Bailey and Lauren seemed to delight in getting to know each other as they cleaned up the hall and kitchen.

Since no hobbit house was large enough to offer beds to the towering visitors, Frodo offered the use of his lush yard to pitch tent, and Bag End for any incidental needs. Sam secured a safe post in his yard to tie up the huge horses. Pippin gathered feed and water. Sir Wallace and Ramsy pitched tent. Legolas and Tendell unpacked the horses, scrubbed off the road dust and brushed their coats to a shiny clean. 

As dusk fell over the hills, Hobbits from town collected on the road. They hung out at Frodo's fence between Bag End and Bagshot Row with pipes and pigs on leashes to gawk at the visitors. In due time, Merry shooed off the onlookers, reminding them that it wasn't a circus, even though the visitors didn't care if they were stared at or not. Once camp was set and the horses were resting comfortably, the eight men gathered once more to sit under the fading sunlight and enjoy the Hobbit tradition of sharing a smoke.

Sam was the first to go as he noticed the lights being blown out in the window of his kitchen. Pippin left a minute later to take Bailey home before her father worried. Lauren followed Merry to the front gate with the last blueberry pie. She kissed him on the cheek as she gave it over. 

Merry pretended to be shy about it and whispered to her to save all her kisses for Frodo. Neither of the pair tried to hide behind a veil of 'housemaid' this time. Lauren just tucked a blush to glance back at Frodo, and Frodo bit his lower lip before beaming casually at Meriadoc. He gave his friend a strong pat on the shoulder to bid him good night.

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**_Bagshot #3_**

Brown eyes leered at the trio from inside a porthole window. "Well, she's bought Merry for certain." Sam grumbled as he violently scrubbed a rag in the cold laundry bucket below the window. "Made up the recipe. What nonsense!"

Rose held her large stomach and waddled up behind him. "Sam, that's yesterday's wash water."

He halted indignantly and flapped the rag down into the dirty water. "What's it still doing here?" He shook the water off his hands and stepped to the cupboard. There still weren't any clean ones.

"You didn't pour it out."

"_Me_?" He spat.

Her hand held the belly as if to protect the baby from his bad mood and her eyes glared with disbelief. "I can't pick it up, Sam!"

He didn't acknowledge her. "There're no rags in here. We can't possibly be out of rags." He walked out the tubroom door and disappeared into the bedroom. 

Rose put a palm on her forehead as if the effort would keep a headache from emerging. She was far too exhausted and uncomfortable to deal with another one of Sam's sour moods. She wandered into the front room and looked down at Elanor snoozing fitfully in the bassinette – the very same bassinette that needed to be available within the next two months, but new furniture was turning into an impossible daydream. The Gamgee house was consuming a lot more food, and Frodo's acreage had been producing less and less. Lately, Sam spent most of his monthly allotments during grocery trips into town. He was still too embarrassed to admit to Frodo that he needed a higher wage.

He came back out of the bedroom with an old shirt and wadded it up for use as a giant rag. He stormed over to his writing desk and stuffed the rag into the spilt pool of 'orc blood'. The ink had spread over a few of his numbered notes he was working on this morning. He would simply have to refigure his numbers another day, but it fired Sam into an explosive wrath to be so repetitively interrupted from counting up the bad news. 

Rose settled down into a soft seat, sighed, and propped her elbows together on her closed knees. "I could always hire out at the pub again."

Sam's mouth was tight. He was angry with her for even offering. "You will do nothing of the sort."

Rose put her palms on the deep end of the chair and leaned back on locked elbows so her belly could pop out in front of her. "Well why don't _you_ hire out at the pub!"

He turned to her with a wad of wet and permanently blackened shirt in his hand and pointed an oil-black finger. "I work this land for this house. If I stop working the land, we stop living in the house."

Rose's eyes rolled. "I'm sure you and Frodo can make an arrangement."

"Yeah? Well I'm not so sure." Sam turned himself back around and continued to clean up the ink spill he was still angry at himself for spilling. "All the arrangement's he's been making have been between him and other folks." He picked up the rag and wadded up the dripping paper. "They're just leaving me out in the cold."

"What do you mean?"

He gathered the mess in his hands and stuffed it in the burn box. "Like this idea to farm the back slope for a winter crop? Tonight's the first I've heard of it. He never talked to me about it. But Merry and Pippin knew. They were telling everyone about their intended trip to Tookbank to get the seed."

Rose's eyes shifted to take this in. 

"And Lauren, she's got him _and_ Merry wrapped around her little finger. She keeps feeding Meriadoc these pies, and Frodo doesn't get jealous. I can't figure out what she's doing to turn them both on so much without a hint of rivalry. She'd have Pippin too if he weren't already chained at the ankle."

"Chained at the ankle," Rose echoed with a new height in her brow.

"She's up to something, I tell you." He shook his head and finally flopped down in his low and deep master's chair. "I can't put my finger on it." He glared into the pathetic fire and lay elbows and arms on the wood-carved armrests of the old-upholstered chair.

Rose sat up again, wrapping her arms around her belly lowering her eyes to the ground. "You should talk to him."

Sam nodded a little, "I tried to today." He winced and scratched his scalp from his bangs to the back of his head, leaving his sweaty hair in a carrot-colored rats nest. "I'll try again I suppose." 

Rose closed her eyes just so she could sit there and try to meditate. The gently growing pain in the small of her back throbbed ever on. The skin of her feet was so swelled up that the hair follicles itched painfully. The muscles behind her shoulder blades felt weak and stretched beyond belief. Her breasts felt like two giant, raw bruises. And the baby used all his might to kick at her stomach.

Sam was oblivious to all of this. He stared at the fire thinking of nothing but how to foil Lauren's evil deed. "Maybe you should talk to her." He finally said, looking over. 

Rose slowly opened her eyes to him. Her face was pale and her eyes were weak.

Sam suddenly forgot about Lauren. "Are you all right?"

"I'm pregnant," she said.

He wondered if this was one of those moments he was supposed to feel guilty about that. "It's almost over," he offered.

"The easy part is almost over." She corrected humorlessly, pushing herself to her feet and not looking easy about any of it. "The hard part has yet to begin."

Sam brought up a hand to rest his forehead in his fingers, but saw the black ink covering half his hand and fingers. Even thought it looked to have already dried, he didn't want to smear it all over his forehead. Sam winced at his hand. It wavered on the elbow and fell back to the arm of the chair.

Rosie turned to the bedroom and shuffled off without a word.

Sam listened to her settled into bed and then heard his baby girl snoozing softly in the bassinette behind him. Elanor always looked at him with such big eyes and complete trust, but Sam didn't have as many answers as the baby needed. He didn't have the answers that Rose needed, and he could usually talk honestly about this stuff with Rose. 

He pushed out of his chair and moved back to the writing table. He reached into a small drawer and glanced over at the dark and silent bedroom as he retrieved the tobacco and soon snuck out the back hobbit hole to keep the smell away from Rose. 

Lately the stuff wasn't in its usual state of 'undesirable'. Just a whiff of it could make Rose turn a sick shade of green and sent her violently off to bend over in a dark spot of the yard. And she could smell it on him for hours after he smoked. But this time, Sam knew it was only temporary. She'd be okay with it as soon as the baby was born, but until then, tobacco was downright forbidden.

Sam crossed his legs in the dirt behind his house and slumped his shoulders. He stuffed crispy stale tobacco into the pipe, and lit it up with a frown. 

Frodo had taken her already. Sam was sure of it. It was clear in his eyes when he looked at her this afternoon. It was atrocious the way he protected her. She had lured him in to the worst of it and now all it took was a sparkly little glance to throw Frodo's decision making off into the trees. And she must have been a professional at it too. Her first order of business had been to shove a wedge between Frodo and his Sam.

"I'll find you out," Sam swore in a whisper. "You're not taking him so easily."

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**_Elfish Exam_**

The travelers decided to stay a full day before moving on so that the horses (and themselves) could get a full and refreshing rest before the traveled a hard road through the Misty Mountains. It was a nice lazy day. A collection of fun-loving Hobbits escorted the Men into town for a few hours; introducing them to certain vendors for travel supplies and showing them to the pub to partake in choice ales. Legolas and Tendell remained at Bag End, hanging out in Lauren's kitchen with the guise of instructing her how to bake up fitting, unspoilable food for their trip.

Of course, Lauren was the one of few that never knew it wasn't a guise. The four hobbits and half their ladies knew that the pre-arranged alone time was so the Elves could question Lauren in an unsuspecting forum in the search for her true intentions. Despite Frodo's insistence that this was no longer necessary, all other hobbits, ladies attached, and the one elf with an opinion, agreed that it was a needed safety precaution to protect Frodo.

Legolas and Tendell tucked themselves to a comfortable sit on the bench behind kitchen table and instructed her easily how to bake almost-elfish waybread as they asked her about food preparations just to get her talking. She performed the steps right in front of them and filled in the gaps of the chore to talk about Frodo's hospitality, the King's wedding, and the change of the seasons. But even in the most casual sense, she never mentioned other people she knew, places she'd been... not even to describe the tools of an old kitchen or adventures in previous cooking.

What she did want to talk about was the elfish hair. So far that she'd met, everyone had kinky curls in their hair and no one could remind her what she could do with her long main. When Lauren turned back from the oven and wiped her hands on her apron, she smiled bashfully at the elves with their smooth faces and smooth hair. She motioned to the hair behind her own ear. "How do you tied it up like that?"  
Tendell motioned for her to sit down on a bench near him. Lauren sat down and let him reach behind her ear. "Hobbits don't braid their hair I suppose."

"They have big clips that pin their hair up in a bun, or tie them in bouncy tails." Lauren explained as Tendell worked. "I tried to copy the buns, but my hair keeps falling out. It's so slippery and pointy. I don't think it looks good."

Legolas reached over and curiously pushed back a lock Tendell wasn't working with. "It's thick and strong. You should be proud of it."

Tendell tucked closer to her skull. "What's this?" He combed back a slip of brown hair with his finger and revealed her temple scar.   

Legolas peered over his shoulder to study it. 

"It's my amnesia scar." Lauren's explained easily without moving away. "We didn't realize it at first, but it was fresh when I got here. Frodo says that was where all my memories probably were. I likely hit a rock when I fell."

"Off of what?" Legolas asked.

Lauren grinned, "We're still working on that."

Curiously, Legolas untangled himself from the table and bench so he could step around and sit down on the other side. He angled his head and pulled back the hair from her other temple, looking for more scars. "Forgive me," he muttered.

She remained still so the elves could search her hair but felt odd and shy about it. Her eye tucked over to see Tendell again working on the braid on her left, but strangely, she didn't  look at Legolas to her right. Maybe she knew.

"Do you have a clip?" Tendell asked the other.

Legolas held up a curious part in her hair at the back of her head and used a single hand to pull a clip out off his pocket. He handed it to Lauren, "Hold this for him."

Lauren's eyes turned down to see what Legolas held towards her lap. She brushed her fingers gently against his and used a thumb to roll the tiny clip into her palm.

Legolas felt the fingertips brush against his palm. He was instantly taken aback by the feminine token of romance. 

But it wasn't a feminine token of romance. It was something else. 

Legolas lifted eyes to Tendell with concern...

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**_Madly_**

The gathering of men and hobbits returned in lollygagging pairs and trios. Legolas was pleased to have news when they came back. He and Tendell were in the front room relaxing with tea at the table when Frodo and Sam returned from town. Legolas was straddling the inside bench, and Tendell was straddling the outside bench. Lauren stood at the end of the table behind Legolas wearing an apron and serving them. Her hair was braided and tied just like them. At a glance, she looked like an elf.

Frodo was eager to read the results from Legolas' eyes even as he pulled off his own coat in the front hall. He feared a serious stare or a scowl on the elf's mouth but he found a comfortable smile. The knights were inquired after and purchases were reported and stored away, and the real question of the hour came forth before too long.

Frodo stood in his front room looking over at the three of them at the table. Lauren groping delicate fingers over a palate of lemon bars as she cut them into squares. "Would you like a treat?" She held up a lemon square with one of those easy smiles on her face. It was the kind of smile she smiled when she played with chickens, or dressed up for herself, or spent girlfreindish time with Rose or Bailey. It was the only smile Frodo couldn't put on her face. 

He took it from her fingers and dropped his eyes as he took a bite.

Lauren's eyes turned respectfully to Sam to offer him one as well. 

Sam took a single step over and took it out of the air, noting the way she looked him in the eyes. She had no smile on her face for him as though she knew he didn't like her, but she wasn't aggressive or defensive with her eyes. The lemon bar was good and sweet, but Sam was to busy to taste it. He glanced at Frodo, who in turn, looked at Legolas, anxious for answers. 

Legolas lifted half of his face into a delightful grin. He reached back to Frodo and handed over elfish charm to him. 

Frodo took it quizzically, and lifted it to his sights to look at it. It was a beautiful pendent that glittered white in the light. His eyes turned back up to Legolas with even more questions. 

Tendell grinned. "Hand it to Lauren."

Lauren put down the knife and wiped her hands on her apron to show Frodo what they had found. 

Frodo's expression wasn't getting any happier. He looked Lauren in the eye and handed it to her. Lauren looked at the pendant as much or as little as anyone else would, but she took it with her whole hand, naturally drawing soft fingers along the skin of his hand before taking the knot of silver from it. 

It was how she had been flirting with Frodo from the beginning. She had done it with the foul-tasting medicinal mug of tea and with the baby chicks. She did it with forks and fruits and tools and the pekagranetes…. 

Instead of looking at her through her eyes, Frodo literally looked at her eyes. The left one focused on him with all the warmth and emotion and knowledge he could always see. The right eye was the same except that it had drifted its focus a hair away from the left one.

She rubbed the right eye with embarrassment. "I knew my right eye was weak, but I didn't know I was nearly blind in it. I was afraid you'd think I'd been dumped for my defects."

All this time, he thought her soft fingers were a silent form of her affection, but Lauren was simply groping for distance when she took something from his hands. Frodo muttered the reality somberly. "You've no depth perception." 

Lauren gave the pendant back to Legolas, flicked her sleek brown hair over her shoulder and continued to cut the lemon bars. "It's why I can't thread a needle," she admitted. 

Sam's angled his head and stepped curiously around to her other side.

Frodo was a little hurt by the reality and Lauren was oblivious to his mistaken perception. Now he saw it. Her fingers were touching their way across the food and a single index finger followed the side of the blade to keep a firm understanding of what it was about to cut.

He moved over to the bench and sat down in front of Legolas with droopy shoulders. It felt like half of her fondness for him was instantly discarded due to his own imagination.

"She's scarred deeply on her temple and the back of her head." Legolas explained. "The scar on her temple wasn't as damaging, but it's fresh and deep. That's the one that took her memory. Perhaps she fell off a wagon and onto a stone. Her eyesight would have lost her in the wilderness and her lack of memory would have twisted her from knowing which way to go. That is likely how she ended up in Hobbiton Pond without any recollection of the journey."

Lauren paid attention to Frodo and Legolas as she worked, but had nothing to say.

"The one on the back of her head could have likely taken her sight. She's had that one a long time, so it's not surprising she'd already learned how to cope with it."

Sam peered carefully around her right side to see if she'd turn to him. He exchanged glances with Frodo and Frodo watched as he asked, "Why did she have more memory when she first woke up than she has now?"  
"What do you mean?" Lauren asked.

"Before you were entirely awake, I asked you your name and you answered, 'Lauren.'" 

She put the knife down and thought back. The motion to look up into the air made her turn her head a little. She caught a glimpse of Sam and jumped with a gasp. Her palms slapped her chest.

"Her forehead was still healing then." Tandell offered. "The thought paths rerouted themselves around the damage. You caught a glimpse of the memory just as it was being left behind." 

Lauren left her palm on her chest, but as soon as she recovered, locked eyes with Sam and glared. Clearly, she wanted to tell him off, tell him to lighten up, hiss the same silent insult he had been giving her, but Lauren knew her place and said nothing.

Sam kept her eyes with his own glare for a long beat before turning away. The girl knew what she needed to know.

"But she thinks through different parts of her mind now," Legolas continued. "What wasn't damaged grew stronger because it's all she's got left to use."

"I'm drain bamaged," she said to Frodo, trying to make a joke of it even if she was still getting accustomed to the news herself. 

Frodo reached for a teacup and flipped it bottom side down on the table. He had a difficult time with this question because it meant more to him than he wanted to admit. He thoughtfully dropped a sugar cube into the cup as he asked. "Will she get her memory back?"

Legolas sighed and looked at the woman with soft sympathy, "Random images perhaps, noises, strong moments of emotion. Things will look familiar to her if she sees them again, like home and close family. But her memory as a whole is gone for good. Her previous life will remain nothing more than a forgotten dream."

"Images?" Frodo's ambivalent eyes shifted to her even if his chin didn't.

Legolas exchanged telling grins with Tendell and looked back to Lauren. "Lauren, could you kindly prepare our bedding? I think we are going to retire early tonight."

Lauren put the knife down. Her eyes smiled insidiously even if her mouth refused to. She knew damned well they were sending her away so they could talk about her behind her back. And it was clear her patience with this need was wearing thin. Still, Lauren hadn't forgotten her place. "Aye, m'lord." She lifted a chin and flicked insulted eyes only to Sam as she left the house.

When Frodo turned back to the others with a weary sigh, Legolas smiled big and easy. "I think I'm wearing out my welcome with your housemaid."

Frodo forced a grin but shook his head. "She's not insulted by you; she's insulted by him." He motioned casually back to Sam.

Sam stood by himself, closer to the fire and crossed his arms at his chest. His glare now aimed at Frodo for being referred to as though he weren't present.

Legolas gave Sam and understanding smile. "Sam is just doing his job, Frodo. And he does it quite well," he reminded.

Frodo glanced over at Legolas, and then glanced back at Sam. He tried to smile again but it faded as quickly as he turned away again.

Sam rolled his eyes. He looked up at the ceiling to borrow patience from someone who was no longer there. 

Legolas shifted his boot from stretching out in front of him to reaching behind him. 

He told this to Sam as much as he told it to Frodo. "You have to keep in mind that what she doesn't remember isn't nearly as intense as what she _does_ remember."

Both flicked curiously. 

Legolas lifted his brows with a smile at Frodo. "You are the first face she ever saw; the first person to care for her; and the only person which she has given over complete trust." Legolas knew there was more to this than the surface statement, even if he had no intention of asking what else was there. "You've been living with a virgin mind, Frodo. Any and all you have done with her was her first experience at it."

Sam looked accusingly at Frodo, and Frodo's eyes were wide open. The ring bearer's eyes closed with a slow curse and his hands came to his face to hide the regret that grew there.

"What have you done with her?" Sam accused.

Frodo shook his head too quickly.  "Nothing."

Legolas lifted a brow.

Sam flattened his mouth.

Legolas put a palm on the table, grinning about the drama developing but also glad he didn't have to be involved with it. "I don't think she has alternate motives, gentlemen. I think her claims are genuine, but that speaks nothing of the personality within her that she no longer remembers." He gave a wise eye at Sam, "She may well be a con-woman, but if she is, she doesn't remember it." He looked sympathetically back to Frodo, even if the worried Hobbit wasn't looking back at him. "If you still want to find her family you should let her travel with you to Gondor in the spring. So far, all clues point east."

Sam stood on both feet. "Perhaps you could take her back to Gondor with you?"

Frodo sat up and spun around at Sam's insolence.

Legolas sent a glance to Tendell, who in turn started slipping quietly from the room. When gone, Legolas turned back to Sam to answer him. "I'm not going back to Gondor at this time."

Sam's brows knitted angrily at Frodo and Frodo looked insulted and confused back up at Sam. They locked in an icy stare down neither of them fully understood.

"Pardon me, gentlemen." Pippin stepped up to the open window and leaned in. Bailey was in the darkness behind him, but she said nothing. "Sam? Rosie requires your assistance. She's not feeling well."

Sam didn't look at Pippin. He just nodded, turning slowly and breaking the stare at the last minute. He shuffled stiffly out of the house. Pippin hung a little longer in the window than he meant to, giving Frodo a questioning look. Frodo waved it off as he stood and quietly thanked Legolas for all his efforts.

Legolas waited until Pippin, Bailey and Sam were off on their own evening errands before really letting the truth fall to Frodo's feet, and he was smiling wisely when he said it. "If you plan to fall any harder for her, Frodo, you'd better wait until Sam learns to let go."

Frodo looked up at Legolas with grin that was almost embarrassed. "I'm afraid to ask if her feelings came clear in your investigation too."

Legolas flashed a big one at him. He passed the hobbit and patted him once on the shoulder. The elf was going to answer the real question in Frodo's voice whether Frodo wanted to hear it or not.

"Madly."

Frodo's eyes slowly filled and his mouth slowly grinned.

Boots were quiet on the tile as Legolas helped himself out the front door. "Good night."

"Thank you, Legolas."

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**_Bilbo's Fortune_**

The crack of dawn was soft and still. Breakfast was hot and quick. With mutual plans to visit Gondor within the year, goodbyes were easy and quiet. Four hobbits stood in the middle of the road with sober grins on their mouths and respect in the outstretched palms of their hands. The four renewed travelers walked their alert horses leisurely out of Hobbiton less than forty-eight hours after they had arrived. 

Legolas looked back before he moved around the bend, grinned at them, and bowed his chin one last time. When the party disappeared, it felt like the door to the world closed in their faces.

Meriadoc lowered his hand. His mouth relaxed and opened. It was weird to see Legolas without some plot to save the world making his head spin the whole time. He had wanted so badly for Legolas to stay long enough so she could meet him. She'd never seen an elf before. Merry would settle for just telling her about it, just as he always did, but it was weird to see Legolas again. He and Pippin owed their lives to him, and Merry just now realized that he never told the elf 'thank you'. He looked over at Pippin.

Pippin looked back at him with an unsmiling slack mouth that pretty much said the same thing. They'd see Legolas again in the spring, and it would be weird to see him then too, so there was no reason to fuss. His brows lifted at Merry as if to ask what was next, but quickly realized Merry was no longer the person that distributed those answers. Pippin's brows flicked back down over his eyes, uncomfortable, and tugged at an itch on his ear. He turned away with a strange wince. 

Sam's sad brown eyes had fallen to the road in front of him and stayed there for a long, painful minute. He was glad to see the elf again, but memories he hadn't remembered until now started flooding back to the surface of his mind. He hadn't yet looked back at the landscape of the whole event while focusing on the strength of his friendship with Frodo, and now that he had, Sam felt thoroughly used and tossed out with the garbage. Sam didn't look at anybody. He lifted his head only to look at the garden at the bottom of the hill and shuffled off in that direction as he silently reminded himself to learn how to swim.

Frodo had fallen into his own daze as the party left, but it wasn't as heavy or profound. He blinked out of it soon enough and looked strangely at the odd wandering other three. Pippin had silently turned away to climb up the hill with a stiff sigh of duty. Merry had his pinkynail in his teeth to pick some breakfast out as he stepped into the trees, less than hurried. Sam barely lifted his feet as he shuffled down the hill to his own place.  

Frodo frowned in thought and then lifted his voice pleasantly. "Anybody want to see Bilbo's fortune?"

Feet shifted. Brows snagged. All three faces turned back to Frodo with distaste at the joke. 

Frodo had to turn to meet all three pairs of eyes and landed grimly on Sam's. "Or what's left of it?"

Sam's mouth parted. He shifted back more to Frodo.

Frodo's eyes stayed on him as a show of friendship until he had their complete and undivided attention. He ushered his friends inside the house and inside the den so he could explain what was really happening to Bag End. 

Merry hadn't seen the orc-sword up close in a long time, so he took the blade down from the wall and looked it thoughtfully over. Pippin stuffed his hands in his pockets and rested a shoulder on a bookshelf. His eyes tilted warily over at Merry and watched how the man looked down the blade of the sword, tested its weight, and looked into a score-full of memories. 

Merry's eyes flicked to Pippin. 

Pippin wasn't smiling.

Meriadoc sniffed awake and turned to put the sword back.

Sam helped by pulling back a corner of the carpet so Frodo could get on his knees and lifted the small wooden door. They both lifted up a chest from both of it's leather handles and put it on the floor. The cubby it was hiding in looked to be the cut out just for this one chest. 

Sam curiously closed the trap door and put the carpet back as Frodo reached down and fiddled a key in the bolt lock. 

Merry turned back to them and clasped his wrist in front of him. "Why are you showing this to us, Frodo?"

Frodo stood up and pulled back the lid of the chest. He rested his elbows on the upturned lid. "Because I need your help."

Pippin's lip curled at that before moving his feet to look inside. Merry stepped over with mild curiosity. Sam was already in front of it, but his head leaned in deeper, looking to the bottom of it before he believed what he saw. 

Stiff brown eyes flicked up to Frodo. "There's nothing in there."

Frodo pressed his mouth and nodded that reality.

Pippin's mouth went slack. His forehead wrinkled. "You're _broke_?"

Merry set his shoulders back and looked Frodo in the eyes. He was surprised, but not panicked. In fact, Meriadoc thought it was kind of funny. He started to laugh. Pippin stuck his fingers into his hair as if that would smooth out his forehead. He closed his eyes and grinned with disbelief. This wasn't good news, but Pippin wasn't worried. Frodo stood tall and crossed his arms at his chest, facing Meriadoc down, and started chuckling weakly as well. 

The three were raised on family money. Pippin could always go back home where the richest clan in the Shire would absorb him like a drop in a bucket. Meriadoc could go back to Buckland where he'd be welcomed warmly, fed well, and clothed suitably to embark as an entrepreneur with the finest of leaf – or something to that effect. Frodo didn't have a hall to fall back on, but he still had his name and he still had his land. This was only a minor set back for Bag End. 

Sam was a gardener. 

He stepped backward until he found the desk chair and blindly sat down in it. His mouth was open. His eyes were wide and blank. His chest worked occasionally to breathe, but it was irregular at best.

He was the only one among them borne to the servant class. He was the only one who already had a wife and (nearly) two children to support. He was the only one that had nothing to his name and no one to lean back on.

 Frodo saw Sam's reaction and calmed his nervous laugh. "I still have a few months tallied off for you, Sam."

Sam looked him in the eye. "A few."

"Three."

Sam closed his eyes and shook his head. _That's not a few. That's three. That's a month after the baby's born. That's the month when the real need for cash is going to scream loud and clear. _Sam didn't open his eyes, but angled his head with a hard tone. "Where did it all go?" 

Frodo dropped his arms. "Lauren didn't take it, if that's what you're thinking. It's been dwindling since Bilbo came home. He just spent it all." The lid closed with a deep thump. Frodo shrugged. "I guess I did too. I didn't want to tell you until I had a plan to do something about it."

"Do you?" Merry asked easily.

Frodo looked him in the eye and nodded. "Work Bag End back up to a functioning farm like it used to be, but I can't do that alone." He looked at Pippin.

Pippin's face twisted wildly trying to figure out what to think about this. "You're talking work and wages, aren't you?"

Frodo grinned a little bit. "Well, work and houses at first. Wages'll come later if we succeed."

Pippin chin lifted with hope. 

"Bagshot row's got three empty houses."

"They haven't been lived in for nearly two years." Sam looked like he was about to throw up. "They'll need a lot of work."

Meriadoc still stood stiff as a soldier on the other side of the room, but his voice was bright enough, almost teasing. "And what do you expect to tempt _me_ with?"

Frodo shrugged and looked down at the open chest. He grinned, "Free food?"

Merry nodded. "Deal."

"Let's go plan out the lot." Frodo bent his knee forward to close the lid with a succinct thud.

Once upon a time, Bag End had a sheep pasture, a wheat field, and a giant vegetable garden. It had mushrooms growing in the woods. It had blackberry bushes growing on hilltop roof. It even had a couple of rows of winestalks still knotted around their horizontal posts. But all of this had been paired back due to the lack of need during Bilbo's time as an eccentric bachelor. The land was still fertile, the food was simply missing. The quartet took the whole day to roam the acreage and discuss what to do and how to do it. As the sun rolled over their heads, Pippin was looking more and more exhausted from just the _vision_ of hard labor, and Sam was looking less and less concerned. 

By the time the sky started turning orange, all four men had a collective sigh of relief, a refreshed view of their teamwork, and a tentative plan of individual tasks over the next week before they could get started. They gave each other an easy goodnight and split up with lighter footfalls than before.

~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~

**_Lauren Confesses_**

Frodo climbed up the back of the Hill to find Lauren dashing out chicken feed onto the porch. They elder hens were barely larger than the younger ones, and they were all happily working up their fat little thighs as they wandered around and pecked at the ground. Maela's feathers matched Lauren's rusty orange dress. 

Frodo smiled about the chosen chicken again. He stood in the grass behind her and slipped his hands easily into his pockets. He watched the chickens for a thoughtful minute. She noticed him, she even tried to give him a smile, but didn't say anything. She finished up her task without interruption.

"I'm broke." Frodo finally said, lifting his face to her.

"Okay." Lauren responded, blinked, and shrugged. 

Frodo sucked in his lower lip and chewed on it a minute.

Lauren's eyebrows tucked in, thinking that perhaps she should have read between the lines. "Do I have to go make my own way?"

Frodo's eyes flashed open with surprise. "No!" He shook his head. "Oh no. Not at all." He sighed, "I just thought you should know."

Her mouth stretched a little, trying to decide whether to grin or not. "Okay."

Frodo stepped up the rest of the way and stood right where the patio stopped and the lush cool grass began. Almost shoulder to shoulder with her, he looked down at the many chickens and sighed again.

Lauren studied him out of the corner of her left eye. She started to grin, "You know, there's a bunch of people in town who think you've got a ton of jewels hidden somewhere up here."

His brows bounced up that she'd admit to hearing about this.

She grinned, "One man even tried to 'cut me a deal' if searched the place for it."

"Really?" Frodo said softly. "Who was it?"

"Otto or Otho or something like that," she shrugged. "He said he'd give me twenty percent if I helped him out."

 "And what did you say?"

Lauren shrugged a shoulder and smiled. "I told him I already found it and intend to keep one hundred percent of the loot." She giggled deviously. "He thought I was serious."

Frodo tried not to grin, but he did anyway.

 "I guess it turns out I told the truth." She offered, "I have a hundred percent of You're Broke." She curled over with playful laughter and Frodo laughed with her. While she was distracted by tossing down the basket, Frodo stole her other hand. 

She looked back with surprise, but happily let him weave his fingers in with hers and let herself be pulled out to the back slope where the sun was setting over the small field and distant tree line.

"I need to ask you something," he said as he pulled her to sit down beside him. 

She kept her left arm entangled with his, curled her knees up and smoothed out her skirt over them. He liked the way she leaned into him a little, almost cuddling his shoulder, and he glanced back from time to time just to soak up her eyes as she did so. She had that Elfish trinket to tie up those tiny braids. Her deep eyes smiled to drink in the soft peace of sunset and the summer green of the field. The fuzzy grass was sprinkled with tiny flowers of violet, white, blue and yellow. The chickens cackled softly in the coop far behind them as if they were discussing something very important, but otherwise the evening was silent. 

His large feet pressed into the cool lawn in front of him. He watched the light of sun drift deeper into darkness and send a soft pink glow onto the green field and wildflowers. His tone hardened a little. "Legolas said that you'd pick up some images from time to time." His heart skipped a beat with the fear of this. He looked her in the eye. "Have you remembered things you haven't revealed to me?"

Lauren folded her lips together and turned to look where the sky was hanging on to daylight. She nodded carefully. 

"Why?"

"Because they are inappropriate to share with you," she said with confidence in her decision.

His chin turned this time. "That only solidifies how severely I needed to be told."

Dark eyes flicked to him with guilt and worry and yet still quite decided.

"Are you married?"

She sighed patiently. "I don't know, Frodo."

Frodo closed his saddening eyes pulled his mouth small again. "No vision could possibly be as inappropriate as that one. All you have to do is admit 'probably' or 'probably not'."

She tucked a chin arrogantly at him, "And if I said, 'No, Frodo, I specifically remember not getting married,' would you _then_ stop getting angry with me about it?"

Frodo's head dipped to look the other direction. 

"I thought we figured this out when you took off that necklace?" She said quietly.

He sighed and nodded. "Yeah, but I wish I just... _knew_."

"You? What about me?" Her mouth tucked in to rest behind the round part of his shoulder. She inhaled the smell of him, his brown wool coat, and his sweet tobacco. "I have a vision or two that make no sense, but mostly I only remember being scared, and small, and helpless.... And if that had anything to do with a husband, I don't want to go back."

His throat caught with hope. Frodo tucked back to see her. 

Her brown eyes looked up at him big and sad. Her voice was quieter, like a single toe testing the water, when she spoke again. "But I don't think I'd want to go back anyway."

Sapphire eyes began to glow. He softly shook his head in agreement and squeezed her hand. He let the words go voicelessly, "I don't want you to go either."

She pressed a thankful, almost teary-eyed smile and tucked her face nearly into the back of his shoulder. Frodo closed his eyes and cuddled back to her. He licked his lips and opened his mouth to say it—

Lauren lifted her face abruptly. "You're right though. I haven't been completely honest with you about my memories," she admitted with a hard swallow. "But I didn't realize it until Legolas mentioned it." 

Frodo turned his face away, expecting something painful. "What is it?"

"I've never told you how much I _don't_ remember."

His eyes flicked back, not understanding.

Lauren sat up a little, pealing from him to lean forward to her knees, but kept his hand. Her face turned down, flushing with painful embarrassment. "I can't remember how to read and write."

Frodo's lips parted. He didn't realize a memory loss went that far. Perhaps it was something she never knew in the first place.

"I can't remember where we are." She continued to explain, feeling the frustration and embarrassment all over again as she vocalized just how handicapped she was. "I don't know where the roads go. I can't remember the name of the country. I know foods I used to know how to make, but I can't remember their names, and I haven't seen them here. I see you eating with forks and spoons, but I don't remember ever using them before."

Frodo sat up and shuffled to her a little so he'd have an easier time looking at her. She looked so weary of being scared. "I'm looking after you, Lauren."

"I know." She looked him in the eyes, and forced herself to explain this. "I can remember that I'm not suppose to… y'know… before I'm married, but I can't remember if that's all of it… and I can't remember why. I know that some vows are said when a person gets married, but I can't remember what they are. I can't remember what promises I'm supposed to be keeping." Lauren's eyes started filling up again. "There's so much I just can't bring up… I try so hard. I really do. But I just can't recall… so much stuff I'm supposed to know. I get so frightened."

He grinned weakly at this, nodding out his new understanding. "The answers will turn up sooner or later."

It was a dark whisper into her lap. "That's what I'm afraid of, Frodo."

His lips pealed open. His eyes opened to look at nothing in the air. Frodo hadn't thought of this, but now it made sense, just as she was saying it out loud.

"I'd rather have you than go back to what I had before. I know that deep in my stomach, even if I don't know why. And I keep thinking about what Aunty Emma said, about nobody wanting me after I'm spoiled. And I thought, maybe… if I let you… then even if the answers do turn up…."

Frodo's mouth opened more. He tried to make her look him in the eye. "Don't you do that."

She was still whispering, "Just so that they didn't want me anymore even after we find them… Then I could stay with you-"

"Don't you dare do that to yourself," Frodo insisted. "Don't do that to _me_." He took her face in his hands again so he could put this thought firm into her mind. "If you make love to me you're going to do it because you love me so much you're prepared to give birth my children, and that is the one and _only_ reason you'll ever do it."

Lauren closed her eyes and swallowed. Her fingers tightened in his.

"_That's_ the vow you might have made." He told her. "That's what marriage is about. Children are impossible to raise alone. Couples make vows to stay together forever before they breed. All else is superfluous. _That's_ the vow I'm afraid you made."

"Rose said I've never had any children." Lauren said as if this might help. "She checked ... a few things that look different afterwards."

Frodo tried not to picture this and nodded. "Good. There's no hungry babe in need of you. That's good. But you still may have made the vows."

Her eyes looked up for explanation, for the loophole. "But can't somebody-?" 

"A vow is a vow." He pointed out sympathetically. "It can't be unmade. It can only be released. And I'm not even sure a release works on marriage vows."

Lauren thought on this. She looked over at the lawn to let it sink in. She nodded.

"You're hardly spoiled." He tried to assure her. "We haven't gone nearly that far. I mean, I'm no more experienced that you, but I _can_ promise you that much."

Her eyes glanced back at him with questions.

He lifted his brows and nodded. "Save for stories I remember that you can't, it terrifies my as much as it terrifies you."

The corner of her mouth grinned a little. "You don't look terrified."

Frodo warmed. "That's only because your eyes are always closed when I kiss you."

A shy smile splashed across Lauren's her face. Her brows eyes were loving and happy again. "And how do you know that?"

Frodo was relieved to see her feeling better. His eyes stared at her intently. "How would you think?"

She bit her lower lip and flushed flirtatiously.

He bumped his knee fondly against hers and tucked his chin in deeper to try to look her in the eye. "Promise me? Promise me that you will never let me take it that far unless you have no other motives. Don't let me do anything if you don't purely desire it. Don't kiss me, don't sleep in the same bed with me, nothing, unless you really _want _to.... No other reasons permitted. Not even a little bit. Promise me that."

She lifted her face and turned her eyes to him. "I promise." She took a deep sigh and nodded it into conviction. 

Frodo swallowed and nodded too, finally feeling complete relief from all the tension that had been building slowly between them for a month or more. "Good."

Lauren kept watching him, even if he'd folded his lips in to smile weakly about it all.

He looked at the different parts of her face, soaked in the emotion out of her functioning eye. 

As if punching through a membrane of fear, Lauren suddenly leaned in and kissed him. She and stopped just as fast with a soft, uncertain pause. It was the first time she started it, so when she pulled away again, brown eyes were poised for his reaction.

Frodo's mouth remained where it was, but it opened a touch when she left. His eyes pealed open to look at her and he realized that she was simply keeping her promise. His heart blushed. He leaned over a tiny bit, hoping she'd do that again.

Lauren dropped her legs to sit up better and leaned over to kiss him again. She opened her mouth and kissed him as full and as long as he enjoyed kissing her. It was bold but not hungry. It wasn't even terribly fast. Very little in the kiss directly had to do with the forbidden topic they'd just settled. No, this kiss was about forgiveness and hope and friendship. It was a team holler; a secret club; a silent union. It was about the simple reassurance that the other was indeed falling in love, even if neither of them had the guts to say it aloud just yet.

They pulled away at each other's tiny, unintentional cues. They looked into each other freshly happy eyes and shared full wide smiles. Lauren again bit her lower lip as she sat back again, this time with mad sparkles in her eyes.

"Did that fix everything?" Frodo teased.

She nodded. "Yes, of course."

He found this funny. "I'm glad." He gazed out to the sunset again. The sky was entirely orange and pink now, but it was too late. Frodo didn't see any of it.

She leaned against his shoulder again, trying to be sly about cuddling into him.

Frodo's eyes narrowed playfully. He motioned her closer as if to tell her a secret. With a strange grin she obeyed, but kept her eyes on his deceiving expression. Frodo untangled their fingers so he could move his arm out of the way and set his palm on the grass behind her. He leaned over and closed his eyes for a heartbeat to dredge up enough bravery to do this. Then he pulled in a clean breath, tucked his mouth under her ear, and kissed the flesh high on her neck.

Lauren's hair was warm with jasmine again. Her skin was cool and sweet against his lips. She inhaled immediately with a slow gasp of shock. Her body melted to his will. Without being fully conscious of what he was doing, scooted closer and rolled her down into the bed of grass. His mouth traveled from under her ear, down the chord of muscle and found that spot right above the collarbone that made her make those tiny noises in her throat again. He didn't stop this time. He tasted it long and slow to enjoy her music without giving any logic thought to why he liked listening to it so much.

It took a long time before the intensity forced him to come up for air. He took a long, amazed sigh. "What the hell am I doing," he almost laughed.

She sniggered softly.

He lifted his head and looked at her. 

"You're making out with your housemaid." She told him with a grin.

He dropped his head and laughed softly but when he opened his eyes, he found his face at her breast bone. He took a moment to breath and looked back up at her, frozen with indecision.

Lauren angled her head and grinned with an invitation. "I haven't broken my promise," she pointed out lightly.

Frodo studied her face and read the thoughts out of her eye. He set his elbow in the grass above her shoulder and slid the opposite palm across her stomach. He kissed her full and warm on the mouth, and had no intentions of stopping there.

~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~

**_Galadriel's Letter_**

_My Dearest Frodo,_

_I am most pleased to hear of your newfound happiness and comfort. I received your letter only a day after a visit from Legolas and Tendell. I thought deeply about what clues you've collected regarding your mysterious guest. Legolas is convinced of her innocence, but without visiting the child first hand, I cannot say if she carries ill-intent. I can only hear your worry of it in your letter. _

_I agree with Legolas on most things. The girl is not of Elfish decent. And though it seems strange that she prepared a style of Lembas bread for your grand supper, it is not beyond imagination that she had simply absorbed this knowledge in her previous life, regardless which country it was spent. I trust your letter to King Aragorn will produce more results._

_However, I do not agree with Legolas on one account. Should no news arise before your trip to King Aragorn and Lady Arwen's wedding, I do not think it wise for you to take a housemaid, even if it feels strong that her family may be found in the endeavor. Take her as your lady, or do not take her at all. You're heart is strong, Frodo, but deserves better than to travel down that painful road twice. _

_Legolas reported of a growing family in your midst: Samwise Gamgee's sunny summer maiden who brings forth two beautiful babes, Peregrin Took's white winter kiss that claims his heart as I write, and your fine autumn mystery whose roots worry you so. I dare wonder if Meriadoc Brandybuck has a spring flower waiting to blossom into view. _

_Happiness goes customarily unnoticed until it has passed, but love happens like a sudden rainstorm: powerful, inevitable, and richly nourishing. I rejoice in your new happiness and approaching rainstorm. No one in Middle Earth deserves it more. _

_Galadriel_

~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~

**_The big bed was juuuuust right._**

There were two bodies snuggled up in the bed. They were close, but they weren't snuggled together. She was on her side, incidentally facing him as she slept soundly, but he was on his back and starting to stir.

Eyebrows cringed from time to time. He swallowed a dry throat and squeezed his eyes shut. He started to whisper unintelligibly at first and then his voice muttered out real clues about his nightmare. "She's lying. . . ." His body shuffled slightly in the bed as his physically fought in the deep recesses of his mind.

Rosie opened her eyes slowly, and blinked awake enough to realize Sam only was having a nightmare. She reached out a hand to his face and tried ease his mind by petting his cheek with the back of her fingers.

Still sleeping, Sam brought up his own hand to touch hers. He settled again.

Rosie grinned and let him keep her hand. She closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep. 

Sam was quiet and still for a long minute.

Suddenly his hand closed in a panic and his other grabbed for a handhold on the bed frame as his mind fell down very long flight of stone stairs. 

Rosie's eyes opened immediately this time. She sat up.

"Don't listen to her." He grumbled loudly, already pushing himself to sit up. "She stole the bread!"

Rosie grabbed his hand and scooted to his shoulder. "Wake up, Sam. You're dreaming."

Sam was sitting up straight and already opening his eyes when she said that. He softened his grip on her hand but continued to hold it. He dropped his temple to her forehead and let her hug his side.

"What made her jump into my nightmares, Rose?" He heaved softly, not expecting an answer. 

Rosie held him and cuddled her bouncy curls into his big shoulder. 

"My subconscious is trying to tell me she's up to something."

"No, it's not." Rosie's chin lifted to rest on his shoulder and whisper into his cheek. "You're afraid she's taking him away from you."

Sam glanced over at the woman's wisdom, hugged the arm that hugged him, and sighed pathetically. His eyes were open to nothing in the night. "Is she?"

"Yes, she is." Rosie had to say. 

Sam rubbed his eye with his palm and dropped it again. His eyes stared wide open and sad at the darkness. It felt like the end of an era.

She lifted her voice with a smile, "And damn him that he would go off with a girl and leave you behind in this house all alone, with nothing to do and no one to one to keep you company."

Sam looked at her with a mean pout.

Rose hung on his shoulder and smiled sleepily at him. "Every day, you come home and you take care of me, and you play with Elanor, and we sit together, and we come to bed and try to make more babies," her voice tilted, "even if I am already pregnant..."

Sam dropped his face with a grin of guilt.

Rose softened and continued. "And every night while you're doing all this, what does he do?"

Sam shrugged, "I don't know, Rose." Sam lifted his face a little, staring even more intently into the darkness. "He can't afford a broken heart. He's already got the Ring's shadow in him. He's already started turning into Gollum, he's just... frozen somewhere in the beginning of it – like his soul's got a dead branch he'll never be rid of."

She rested her temple on his shoulder and let him talk.

"If he falls in love with her and she ends up a con-woman, or if she just ends up having a family come back for her, he's lose so much more, and then he'll never be able to recover. He'll never make it back to the way he was before."

Rose angled her head, "Will any of you?"

Sam looked over at her. His eyes turned to think that through. Then his mouth closed and his eyes narrowed as he realized she was right.

"You're becoming obsessed with it, Sam," she told him, still groggy. "You're eyes are so focused on Bag End that you've forgotten what's going on in your own home. And to tell you the truth, it's starting to piss me off."

He winced over apologetically and turned to lay her back down in the bed. He smoothed the nightgown over her belly and kissed her forehead. It was relaxing to have her there.

Rose willingly cuddled into his arms, "You're not worried that she's up to something evil, Sam. You're worried that you're losing Frodo." She angled her head to try to look him in the face, but the slim moonlight prevented most of it. "He's already in love with her. You're too late to save him from that. But think about it. _He's falling in love_. Why _would_ you save him?"

Sam thought heavily on all this with his eyes opened. He groped to kiss her cheek with silent appreciation.

Rose's voice smiled. "You should be waving _him_ out to _you_." She smiled and waved. "'Come on in Frodo! The water's fine!'" 

Sam winced at the image but had to chuckle anyway. 

Rose pet his hair. "You need to go beat the both of you over the head with a strong bottle until you come back to an understanding."

Sam's eyes tilted over to see if she was serious. Rosie smiled softly and kissed his cheek. "'Tis a warm night and there's a bottle of brandy in the kitchen cabinet." She tucked in to whisper gently, "Perhaps you and the lads should ask your questions to his face?"

Sam turned his face completely to her and pressed a long, sweet smooch on the lips. "I love you."

Rosie smiled sleepily. "I love you too, Sam, but I'll still serve you weaveled bread tomorrow if you get home too late in the morning."

"Aye," he smiled obediently and climbed quietly out of bed to get dressed.

Sam was dressed in his coat and stepped boldly but silently through Frodo's front door. He listened for stirs of Lauren in Frodo's old bedroom, and hearing none, stepped down the hall to the master's bedroom instead. He lit a candle he fetched from the hall sconce and ducked quickly into the dark bedroom, trying to keep the light and noise of his footsteps from traveling too far down the hall and wake her up.

When he turned toward the bed however, Frodo wasn't the only one in it.

Sam slapped a palm over his eyes and spun his reddening face away from the scene before he fully realized what he didn't see. Frodo sat up in confusion, still in trousers and blousy shirt, and Lauren blinked awake beside him, still in her rusty dress. Both of them startled with panicked movements at being caught, until Frodo realized who it was that caught them.

Frodo fell back on his bed with weak laughter. "Oh, Sam. You scared me."

Sam insisted with a hard whisper, "It should be no surprise that I was a bit startled meself!"

"No," Frodo said thoughtfully, scratching his ear and glancing down at a wide eyed Lauren, "I suppose not." He gave her a soft, sleepy grin not to worry.

Lauren cuddled back into the pillow behind him, and tucked deep under the blankets again.

"Dare I ask if this is a habit?" Sam said only turned his head half way to whisper back at them without looking. "It's not going to sound so good hearing your names in vain in the town common."

"We're fully dressed, Sam." Frodo defended as he swung his legs over the side to sit up. "We were just sleeping."

Sam snuck back a glance to verify nothing was going on that he shouldn't see. "That's not going to matter to the ladies in the sewing club and you know it."

"Should I go?" Lauren asked in a small voice. 

"No." Frodo told her without looking back. He came to his feet and stepped over to face Sam. "It's Sam that should go." He scolded his friend eye to eye. "If he has a problem with whom I have in my bed, he should've addressed me about it some other time and place."

Sam's mouth flattened apologetically. "I didn't know she was going to be here. I came to fetch you for a bottle. . .  I was actually trying to avoid her." He glanced over, "No offense."

"S'all right, Sam." She said quietly as she removed herself from Frodo's bed. "I understand." Her voice went a little cold. "Something's I don't get to ask, right?"

Frodo looked back to her. Sam watched her from behind his friend. 

"Dress warmer," she told him as she climbed to her feet. "And don't get wet this time or you'll catch your death." 

Sam dropped his gaze as the woman passed them to the door. 

"Good night, Sam." She whispered succinctly.

Frodo gave Lauren a deep look in the eyes as she stepped silently out of the room. He wanted to kiss her on the forehead or something, but she passed behind Sam, not in front of him and left the two of them in the bedroom alone so Frodo could change into warmer clothes.

~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~

**_Sam's _****_Midnight_****_ Bottle_**

Merry, as always, was simple to fetch, and Pippin was simple to fetch as well, it was just difficult to find him. He wasn't in the boarding house he'd been renting for years. And three sneaky hobbits treaded lightly with three sneaking whispers to the house of the Bracegirdle family as the next possible option. Pippin wasn't there either.

Merry led the way after that, moving towards the water in a lopsided path so they could check the stables, a favorite grove, and Starwatch hill. It was the latter they finally found Pippin, snoring like a dwarf. He had fallen asleep daydreaming in the grass and watching the diamonds glitter in the sky. Good ol' Pip.

Sam owed him one, so he fell onto Pippin in a straddle across the waist and called out on the top of his lungs. "Last call!"

Pippin jumped awake with a yelp and fell back just as quickly. He pushed Sam off of him, who went rolling with laughter, and climbed to his feet already reaching for the opened bottle. The quartet was tipsy and chuckling by the time they made it to the river. 

It was a new moon this time, so the night was extra dark. They had picked up a fat candle from Pippin's room on the way just so they'd have light at the riverbank, and Pippin made it his mission to dig a hole in the leaves and twigs that would keep the candle from falling over on the slope.

Sam and Frodo had changed places since the last endeavor. This time, Frodo was on his side, holding his upper body up with an elbow as he watched Pippin work so hard on his little task. There was no real wind to bother the flame. "It's gotten warm too quickly." Frodo was saying. "I think at least one more rainstorm will roll through before summer grows strong."

Sam sat where Frodo was before. He crossed his legs and drooped his shoulders so much it looked like he was pushing himself up on his elbows instead of resting them on his knees. "Good, then we still have time to plant an autumn crop. Any news of the seed?"

Merry sat on his rear and propped up one knee in front of him. He wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve and handed the bottle to Sam. "I hear there's a few extra sacks in Rushey. I'll head out in a few days to buy it, but you guys have to get that field started."

Pippin flicked at a flint and studied the flame as he carefully lit the candlewick. "With all due respect, gentleman, weather and crops are not what we came here to talk about." As soon as his face was lit up with the single flame, he looked expectantly at the other three. "Or have we really grown so old and boring already?"

Merry grinned, "What did you have in mind?"

Pippin knew as well as any of them that he hadn't called this one, but he settled in on his stomach across the candle from Frodo and propped his body up on his elbows with a grin, "Well I was more in the mood to talk about sex, but I would be afraid to make you blush, Meriadoc."

Merry grinned and pointed at him. "I do have some good stories on that topic."

Pippin nodded with acceptance and angled his chin, "But my first question would be the name, lad. One of these days, you're going to have to give over this mystery girl's name."

Merry shrugged. "Then I suppose you'll have to wait, _Mr. Bracegirdle_." He took his tobacco pouch from his pocket.

Frodo chuckled. He somehow expected Merry to have landed someone on the side, though he never really thought consciously about it much less speak the idea out loud. Nobody had until now.

Sam defended. "That's Mr. Peregrin _Took_ Bracegirdle to you."

Merry shrugged and lit up his smoke. "Pip's right, though. Let's get off the crop talk before it puts me to sleep."

Sam took a long swig before giving it over. "We're here on the request of my beloved Rosie this time."

Frodo's eyes lifted. "Rose _requested_ it?"

Merry looked over his shoulder at Sam. 

Pippin's mouth fell slack. 

Sam looked at his lap for several stiff beats. His eyes lifted under his brows at Frodo down the hill from him. His voice was harsh and cold. "She wants me to ask you, _to your face_, why I might be having nightmares about Mordor with Lauren there instead of Gollum?"

Pippin abruptly closed his mouth. Merry whistled one quiet, swinging note of shock.

Instantly insulted, Frodo pushed himself up with a palm. "Now hang on—

"Think about it, Frodo." Sam angled his head and leered at him. "We still have no idea where she came from or what she's doing here, and yet I find her in your bed." He snatched the bottle back from Merry, "Housemaid indeed."

Frodo studied the extremeness of Sam's discontent about it and looked into the single little flame to think it all over. 

"Would you mind catching us up?" Pippin peeped. "How long has this girl been keeping you warm at night, Frodo?"

"I haven't taken her." Frodo defended almost angrily and looked over at Sam. "When she sleeps with me it's fully clothed. Nothing happens. And we've only done it a few times."

"How many?" Pippin asked.

"Thrice. . .  plus tonight." Frodo told Pippin with a small mouth. He glanced over at Sam, hurt by this, and reached over to snatch the bottle from the other's hand, just to make a statement about how much it wounded him.

Merry was the furthest from the light of the flame, so his serious voice and a puff of smoke seemed to come out of the darkness like something out of Alice and Wonderland. "Sleeping in the same bed together doesn't happen by itself."

"I haven't taken her," Frodo insisted again, louder this time. 

"Fine," Merry gave him that. "What exactly _have_ you taken?"

Frodo brought up a knee and wrapped an elbow over it just so he could rub his forehead on his is forearm. "Why do I have to give this over?" He grumbled reluctantly.

"Because I don't trust her with you yet!" Sam spat. "I'm worried how much _she's_ taken _you_."

Frodo turned to him with a shake of the head and a heavy whisper. "You're over the line, Sam."

"What about when Legolas was here?" Pippin pointed out. "He assured us of her innocence."

"Legolas only observed her for a day," Merry reminded Pippin. "It' doesn't take much to put up a good show for only a day."

Frodo was even more insulted that Merry wouldn't defend her. "Meriadoc, you traitor, she trusts you! She speaks of you like a close friend."

"And I her," Merry insisted softly. "But if she's lying, I have nothing but her friendship to lose, Frodo. You've got a lot more chips on the table already."

Frodo pushed to his feet with a hiss and stepped to the waterline. He dropped his shoulder against a tree, just to keep his back to them.

"She truly fancies you, Frodo," Merry added stiffly. "I'm certain of that. But if she was left here as a victim, or deliberately fell here for a con, I cannot guarantee."

Frodo rolled back on his shoulder to glare wounded eyes to Merry. His eyes were squinting as if fighting from tearing up. "Don't do this to me, guys."

Merry dropped his pipe hand to his knee. "Frodo, I would give anything to make her the real thing for you," he explained, "But I won't lie to you about it."

"Same here," Sam muttered without looking up right away. "I like her well enough. But the circumstances are just too odd. And she's elbowing in awfully quick."

"Elbowing in?" Frodo echoed with insult. "Do you really think her that evil? You talk as though she's deliberately prying us apart."

Sam met his eye honestly. "I am dreaming about it that way. There's got to be something there."

Pippin rolled over and sat up to offer the bottle to Frodo. 

"Something about her is still poking the subconscious." Sam told him soberly. "We're only asking for the details so we can figure out why."

Merry explained with a distinguished lift of his chin. "There are only two ways a woman can pull one over on a man: sex and cooking." Then he tucked in for another puff. "We already know she can cook."

Frodo took the bottle and grumbled into it. "I haven't laid with her and she hasn't tried to lure me into it either." He took a fat slug from the bottle, "That should be all you need to know."

"Has she lured you along more than any one else has?" Sam asked.

Frodo glanced up, realizing it just now. "Maybe a bit."

Pippin kicked his ankle lightly just because his foot happened to be there. "Don't fret about the telling, man. It's just us for cryin' out loud."

Merry tucked in for another puff, "You're the only one among us that hasn't laid with a woman yet."

Frodo's motioned quickly to Pippin. "What about _him_?!"

Pippin flashed a big, fat smile of guilt.

"You _dog_!" Frodo accused with a smile in his throat.

Pippin lay back against his elbows behind him and sighed happily at the sky. "I've discovered that being engaged can be nearly as interesting as being married."

Sam laughed at this. He didn't know about Pippin's expedition either.

Merry chuckled an explanation. "I tried to fetch him for a pub call last Wednesday, and I found him with his eyes mysteriously rolled back into his head."

Pippin lifted his head again. "I _am_ a dog," he admitted with a pout, then ducked his eyebrows evilly and shined a toothy grin at Frodo. "But then I've never had a more satisfying afternoon tea either."

Frodo dramatically dropped his jaw.

Sam laughed louder. 

Merry sniggered at Frodo. "Looks like you're the last man standing, laddie."

Frodo snarled at them and tucked up the bottleneck to his chest. "I'm keeping this bottle." He took another swig and flicked his chin indignantly away.

He turned his back to them, and leaned against the trunk of a small tree by the river. He ducked his chin and tried to let his blush burn itself off naturally. He listened to the other three calm their laughter about it until the noises quieted and frogs started croaking down river again.

It didn't matter whose voice it was that softly pierced the silence. All three would have sounded the same. "Give it over, Frodo."

Frodo sighed heavily and took another swig. He turned slowly and kept his eyes down as he muttered. "I kissed her neck." He held out the bottle for a controlled crash to the ground where he folded a foot under him to sit down. "And I. . . " he raised the bottle to his mouth again, "touched her," he said quickly before swallowing hard on another swig.

Pippin's eyes were narrowed onto Frodo. "Touched her _where_?"

Frodo never answered that question. "I'm not sure if she noticed that part."

"She noticed," Sam grinned quietly, convinced of this.

Frodo's eyes widened. "She's not telling tales to Rosie, is she?"

Sam shook his head and adjusted to sit up and look at him again. "No, Rosie hasn't said anything. She probably wouldn't tell me if she did."

Pippin crooned his head back to look at Sam. "Rosie likes her well enough, yeah?"

Sam shrugged. "Yeah, but not like their becoming best friends or anything. Not yet anyway."

Merry rolled back onto one elbow. "What were you talking about before it happened?"

Sam and Pippin looked over before realizing the question wasn't for them.

"You mean, the first time?" Frodo squinted.

Merry's eyes widened and his voice rose with accusations. "How many times have you done it?"

Frodo closed his eyes. He smiled and shook his head, "I meant-"

Pippin sat up to face Frodo with an eager order. "Answer."

"Several," was all he admitted to.

Merry tilted eyes over to Sam. Sam wasn't impressed. "And what were you talking about before it started?"

Frodo had to think back on this. The first time they were kissing themselves into trouble was the night Pippin got engaged. "You!" Frodo hissed with a finger pointing passed the bottleneck to Merry. 

Pippin laid back on an elbow and took the bottle from Frodo so he'd slow down.

Frodo didn't realize it had been taken. "She was talking about the night you rescued her from the brothel."

Pippin took a swig and passed the bottle on. He curled a lip. "How did you get from talking about Merry in a brothel to kissing her neck?" 

Sam snickered. "Think about it, Pippin."

Pippin's brow flicked up. "Oh. Yeah."

Merry coughed out a mouthful of brandy with his laughter.

Thinking back on that night, Frodo looked over to Sam with a thought. "I think you equate her with Smeagol because of that necklace I had her wear."

"What was it for, anyway?" asked Pip.

"It was supposed to stand in as a favor from her husband," Frodo explained easily. 

"I think it only added wood to the fire," Sam admitted. "That ring token on it probably messed up for me as much as it did for you."

Frodo licked the corner of his mouth as he thought on this. Distracted, he nodded.

Sam watched Frodo's expression as the other fell deep in thought about it. "You haven't been yourself, lately, Frodo. It's eerie."

Frodo turned his head to look up expectantly at Sam. "Did you think I was happier before?"

Sam took this in a moment, then dropped his eyes to his lap.

 Frodo knew the answers full well already. "Have I been acting like I have the Ring again?"

The bold question took all three back a moment. 

"No," Sam admitted quietly. "It's a different kind of spell."

Frodo's brows lifted with a smile. "So now you think she's a witch or something?"

Sam shook his head and put a palm tiredly on his forehead. 

Pippin rolled back on his elbows and explained this one proudly. "He's speaking metaphorically, Frodo."

"Sex and cooking," Merry reminded.

"Oh," Frodo said. 

Merry puffed quietly with patience, but closer to the light source, Pip watched Frodo's expression slowly droop with sadness and worry. Pippin tucked a palm under his ear to lean on it, and then looked up at Sam who was bent over so sadly that he was literally pouting. Pippin voiced it out this ridiculous impasse. "You two look like you just broke up."

Frodo glanced up with a curled lip at the term.

Sam lifted his head and shot out more childish accusations. "Well what do you expect!? I come over to find him grinning like I walked in on something but he won't give over what happened. I see them laughing too loud in his back yard, and he declines telling me the joke. I accuse Lauren of _anything_ and he jumps to her defense. And then she's pulls off that Elfish bread at dinner. _Made up the recipe!?  _How can you believe that shite, Frodo!?"

Frodo was alarmed at the passion behind Sam's display. Sam's face had started to turn red at the anger behind it, but he'd caught himself and settled down on his own. Still, he wouldn't look Frodo in the eye anymore.

"I shouldn't have to share all my secrets with you, Sam." Frodo whispered stiffly. 

"I don't think this has _anything to do_ with Lauren," Merry muttered.

Sam didn't look at either of them. His mouth was taught and his eyes were narrow. He unfolded his legs to lay flat down the hill from him and leaned over, silently requesting the bottle from Pippin.

Pippin handed it up and lightly addressed Sam, "Have you ever given over marital secrets to Frodo?"

Sam's brow flicked. "No. But Frodo and Lauren aren't married." He took a hard swig. "And even if he was, we've all known Rosie since we were little. She's never fallen under suspicion about anything."

Pippin was patient. "How can you expect him to share all these details with us, or even just you, if we're not going to return the favor?" His eyes widened with a larger point and his arm shot out to Merry. "This ars here won't even give over the girl's name! How can you possibly be upset with Frodo for not describing what her neck tasted like!?"

Frodo's face went red as he ducked over with a trapped mad giggle.

Sam grinned a little about Pippin's point, but glanced warily over at Merry. "She's not married or anything, is she?"

Merry puffed the last bit of his bowl, lifted his brows and bobbed his head back and forth to consider that answer. "There are certain extreme cases where the word 'marriage' has a fuzzier definition than one would expect."

On his elbows and neck crooned to look up the hill at him, Pippin's mouth dropped dramatically. "You dog!"

Merry's eyelids drifted with his smug nod. "I _am_ a dog," he admitted. "But I'm an exceptionally skilled dog."

Frodo's rolled onto his shoulder below Sam's feet as his round mouth gasped out laughter, "Ho ho no." He glanced up at Sam, upside down, to find the other chuckling and shaking his head about Merry.

"Are you a dog, Sam?" Frodo asked with a bit of a grin on his face. 

"I am proud to report I am _not_ a dog." Sam pulled up a knee to hug it thoughtfully with an elbow. "I married her too fast to have grown such a strong inclination."

"Would you tell us if you did?" 

Sam studied Frodo's upside down eyes and rubbed a spot under his thoughtfully pursed lips. "Probably not. Not at the time anyway," Sam admitted, realizing their point. "I wouldn't have risked to spoiling her reputation." He flicked a chin at Frodo, "Especially with you."

Frodo pressed his mouth and nodded softly, "There are some secrets you just shouldn't tell." He lifted a brow, "But then I never expected you to, Sam."

Sam tried to smile at that, but it was weak and feeling guilty. 

"I think it was the Elfish bread that burned you up," Pippin told Sam. "That's what Gollum's final push was."

Sam nodded thoughtfully about it and looked down at his lap. 

Frodo rolled onto his stomach and crawled up a bit higher on the slope than Sam's ankles. "She's hardly Smeagol, Sam." Frodo promised. "Besides, it was the Ring talking before."

Sam glanced up at that. 

Frodo insisted, "Even if something like that happens again, you _know_ I'm not going to turn you away. If you grow suspicious, I'll listen to you."

"How do I know that?" Sam whispered.

Frodo turned up a hand. "I'm _here_, aren't I?" And it turned out to be his left hand he'd brought up, so he splayed it in the air to remind them of the fingertip he lost. "I'm not going to forget which one betrayed and which one was true, Sam. I'm reminded every day." With tight teeth, Frodo looked to find who had the bottle and requested it with his open left hand. And the other's watched his hand do it.

Until now, none of them really noticed how different Frodo had to hold the bottle than usual, even if only a quarter inch of his finger was missing. He couldn't hold the fat end without it slipping out of his grip. He had to grab it by the neck, and still he sat up so he could put it in his right hand to drink it.

Sam's brows knitted and his eyes squinted. He shuffled down the hill, kicking dust up a little, until he bumped into Frodo's side with his hip and held his hand out for the next slug. 

Pippin and Merry were quiet as if they were quietly daydreaming.

Frodo looked over his shoulder at him and watched Sam drink it until it was handed back, and then he still looked over his shoulder. Sam finally met his eyes with his flattened mouth and squinty eyes still showing the scars in his soul from the whole Smeagol/Gollum episode.

Frodo tried to grin apologetically, but dropped his gaze to the bottle again.

How many times do you have to say you're sorry?

Sam realized he didn't know the answer to that anymore than Frodo did. He sighed quickly, sniffed and scratched his nose with the side of his index finger. He reached around to take the bottle from Frodo again. "So what _does_ her neck taste like?"

Frodo glanced up with hope at Sam's tone and then lifted into a smile of relief at the suggestive flick of Sam's eyebrows. He fell back against Sam's shoulder with reddening cheeks. 

Sam left his shoulder available for Frodo to lean against just so he could tuck a prompting grin at him. "You liked it didn't you?"

Frodo finally decided to turn this beating around. He arrogantly sucked the thought in from his lips and straightened his back a little bit. "Hard to describe," he said easily, "but I can tell you her neck isn't nearly as tasty as her nipples."

"Ha!" Merry laughed, even as he dug the tobacco pouch from his pocket. Pippin dropped his head from his shoulders with a new cackle.

"Yeow." Sam chuckled wisely at the reaction. "Yeah, you're a dog in the making."

Frodo covered the telling smile on his mouth with the back of his hand. "I can't believe I just said that."

Sam shoved at his back. 

Frodo shoved him back.

Merry leaned over their way and landed on an elbow. He tucked his voice in to nearly a whisper like he was trying to sell him a coat full of stolen watches. "Y'know Frodo, there's this trick you can do with your tongue-"

Frodo lifted his head with a shout. "_Time to talk about crop farming_!"

All three men curled over and shuddered with trapped laughter. 

"You keep your tongue tricks to yourself." Frodo warned him. "I'll earn my own claw marks, thank you."

Pippin coughed out a new cackle and Sam tossed his head back with laughter and lay back down on the ground. Merry motioned calmly to Frodo. "Shoot for the moon," he agreed. "I'm proud of you already."

~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~~

**_The Jinhai_**

_Dear Frodo,_

_Glad to hear things are well with you. Arwen sends fond greetings._

_I've sent word out among Gondor's captains to keep their ears open. Thus far, they have reported to me on occasional tale of broken families and missing children, but none that specifically match the data you offer, nor lead to any reason why the girl might have traveled all the way to your Shire. _

_It is true that Gondor is inhabited with an occasional family of the smaller race of men kind. Jainen they are called, from Jinhai in the southern continent. They average a bit taller than Hobbit height but I understand that the ladies easily range as short as you describe Lauren to be. They do have menkind feet and round ears, but all Jainen have black hair, thick and straight like a horse's tail. In the sun, their skin yellows instead of pinkens. When they intermarry, these traits thin and blend with ours, but they are still quite obvious. Perhaps you could look for these clues in your mysterious guest._

_The Jainen sailed into Gondor from the south looking to find a better way for their families, only to discover the culture shock as much of a struggle as the abject poverty they face in Jinhai. Many of them hardly traveled beyond the docks they set foot upon. There was a community of them in Osgiliath known as __Jainen__Town__. They are a quiet and honorable people, astutely affixed to family patriarchy, and known for their hard work and pleasant moods. Sailors used to visit __Jainen__Town__ often for its dining halls and uniquely comfortable services. _

_Unfortunately, Osgiliath's recent trials with Sauron's forces caused the Jainen to flee with the rest of the city. Many came into the safety of Minas Tirith of course and since have returned to help put their homes back together again. But there aren't half the Jainen in Osgiliath now as there were before. This may explain why she was traveling when she did. Perhaps they had given up on Middle Earth and were fleeing to the other coast so they could sail home again. Despite the unlikely distance she must have traveled, should you find Lauren to match the description of the Jinhai, I can assure you that Osgiliath is the place you want visit. _

_By now, you have received our expressed invitation to our wedding in the spring.  I keep telling Arwen that I only asked for her hand because it was the best of all possible ideas to coax the four of you back out this way for a visit, but I don't think she believes me. I look forward to seeing all of you and meeting your new families. _

_If there is any other way I can aide you in your quest, Frodo, do not hesitate to call upon me._

_Warm Regards,_

_Aragorn_

Sam dropped the letter into his lap. He was sitting in the comfortable chair in front of Frodo's front room fire. 

Frodo puffed quietly on his pipe and waited for a reaction. 

"Did you tell her about all this?"

Frodo looked into the fire and nodded easily. "Mm hm."

Sam scowled a little. "And?"

"She's a Jainen. She knew the word the first moment I uttered it." Frodo lowered the pipe and folded his lips together, but his stare didn't turn away from the fire. "The culture sounds familiar, but she doesn't remember any details."

"Does she want to go home to Gondor?"

Frodo nodded. "Of course she does." His eyes turned to Sam, "But not with the risk that I might come back without her. She wants to know her roots, not return to them."

Sam looked down at the letter and swallowed. 

Frodo took another puff of his pipe, letting Sam speak what he will on his own time.

"All that searching and waiting for clues about where she came from..." Sam mumbled. "Now that you have it you won't act on it?"

Frodo's eyes were stuck on the fire. He shook his head. "Only if you force me to, Sam."

"_Force_ you?"

Frodo shook his head and shrugged. "I'm not going to dance between the two of you,. If you won't ease up, then I _will_ take her home. But I'll do it _alone_ and I'll do it _now_. If take her to Gondor with the intent to leave her there, you are _not_ coming with me."

Sam looked like he was just hit in the face with the compliment. 

Frodo looked him sadly in the eyes. 

Sam looked dumbstruck, "You really love her."

Frodo didn't acknowledge. He didn't even nod. His mouth just pressed a little harder and his eyes looked at Sam a little bit deeper. 

Sam shook his head and dropped his gaze. He pulled in a deep sigh and blew it out cold and controlled.

Frodo took another deep draw from his pipe. 

Sam looked into the fire. 

They sat silently for a long time, individually looking back over the events to figure out how they got here. It was ten minutes of silent memories, but they'd started growing accustomed to even the harshest visions they could see in their mind's eyes. The happy times weren't so funny, the bloody times weren't so shocking, and the painful times weren't so raw. 

"You're not leaving this Shire without me," Sam finally said. "If that means she's to come back with you, so be it."

Frodo rested the pipe on his knee and looked over at Sam with appreciation in his eyes. Sam looked back with honor and respect. Then they both started to grin with humor.

They didn't walk away from Mordor empty-handed after all.

"Frodo?" Lauren called lightly from some hidden corner of the house. "Supper."

A smile splashed across Sam's face. 

"Go to your woman," Frodo told him.

Sam nodded at Frodo's thought and pushed himself up from the chair. "Go to yours."

Frodo climbed to his feet with a new smile, Sam grinned, and they stepped away from each other to tend to their own families.

Sam swooped up a handful of blossoms from the yard as he walked through it. He arranged them in his hand as he lumbered down the hill and marched into his own house with a smile on his face. Elanor was using his easy chair to standup. She smiled big at him and launched out to walk to daddy. He stopped in his tracks and let her waddle all the way to him without falling down. She was giggling when he picked her up.

Now, with flowers in one hand and the Light of Rosie's Life in the other, Sam stepped into the kitchen and interrupted her cooking. She turned, charmed, and smiled when he snuck in a kiss.

It was a combination between this act of thoughtless love and the wiser, happier smile in his eyes that made Rosie put Elanor to bed a little earlier that night. The sun had hardly set before Sam was defenselessly flat on his back in bed, and his eyes were rolling drunkenly into the back of his head. 

~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~

**_Frodo the Dog_**

_"You want me to fill you up?"_

_Slap!_

Frodo was still wide awake for no apparent reason, and still tumbled upon that moment that happened earlier in the day. His mind lazily bounced from one thought to another, from one topic to another, until his mind's eye danced across Lauren's body several times. She was trying to tie a tiny bouquet of red and yellow wildflowers together. 

She was talking about her memory. _"I still have a lot of empty spaces."_

_"You want me to fill you up?" _He grinned before thinking about how it may have sounded.

She whacked him a good one. Frodo never saw it coming.

Even now, hours later, he chuckled weakly at his own idiocy. He touched his cheek again. It barely stung when she slapped him, but somehow he could still feel the statement radiate from his skin. 

His open eyes saw visions of her lying on the grass and tittering at his jokes. His mouth remembered the petal soft taste of her breasts. His skin tingled with the memory of her warm body in his bed. And he found himself imagining what the rest of her body felt like before he admitted he wasn't going to get to sleep at this rate. 

He rolled off his bed and strolled through the dark house as a matter of practice. He emptied the pipe into the cool fireplace and stuffed it mindlessly with a new bowl of tobacco. He was already considering his real options with Lauren as he strolled to the little porthole window.

"Please don't smoke that," she said quietly. "It makes me sneeze."

Frodo turned to find her in the darkness, sitting at the front room table in her own long white nightgown. He set down the pipe and used the match to light a single stick candle instead. "What got you up so late?" The yellow light flickered alive to fill the room only enough so they could see each other. He set it on the table.

"Couldn't sleep," she said easily. "I feel guilty for slapping you even though you deserved it."

Frodo sat down opposite her at the table. He smiled, "As well you should, whether I deserved it or not."

Lauren lifted a brow. "And why is that?"

"Because I'd never slap you," he told her, meaning it.

She had a soft smile on her mouth. "Hm." She propped an elbow on the table and leaned her cheek into her palm. "So why are _you_ up?"

"Can't tell you."

"Why not?"

"Because you'd slap me again."

She chuckled.

Frodo angled his head to feign insult. "I'm serious."

"And if I promise not to?"

"Still can't tell you," he grinned.

"Why not?" She smiled back.

Frodo tucked in his chin to look at the tabletop and leaned in with almost a bashful smile. "Because I'd deserve it."

Lauren's voice was playful and smooth like warm chocolate. "For some reason I feel I should be testing my imagination against the thought of children right now."

"Gosh, I wished that worked for me." Frodo admitted. "I can't have any."

Lauren angled her head. "You can't? Why not?"

His hands were folded in his lap. He leaned his arms and chest against the front of the table. "Something that had to do with the Ring I assume. I don't quite understand it, but Gandalf once told me I wasn't ever going to have any offspring." 

"You failed to mention this before," she said with humor in her tone.

Frodo nodded. "I was trusting that your fear of conception would serve some purpose as a safety net."

Lauren folded her forearms on the table and leaned over with a big smile. "Then why are you telling me now?"

Frodo's wildly smiling eyes flicked up to her. "Can't tell you," he whispered.

She shifted more and leaned closer, but unless someone crawled on top of the table, they'd still be out of reach of each other. "Is there anything you _can_ tell me?"

"You mean, anything that wouldn't get me slapped?"

"I already promised I wouldn't."

"I really don't care if you slap me or not."

"So tell me."

He tucked his brows to play confused, "Tell you what?"

She chuckled and lowered her forehead to the table top with defeat. "Pointy-eared freak," she groaned, but with such a smile in her voice, she might as well have said the words outright.

Frodo glowed inside. He lowered his face down to the table until his mouth hovered near her ear with only a waterfall of hair to protect it. He whispered it like the words were a delicacy, "I want you to come to bed."

Her shoulders lifted to take in a deep breath. She pushed her body up by her elbows, but hardly moved away. She looked in his eyes. "So much for wedding vows."

He shrugged a shoulder, "Without children, superfluous."

Lauren's eyes dropped to the table, thinking lightly on this.

"Besides," he grinned, "In your heart, you've already given vows to me, and I know what they are."

A smile came to her face a little bit louder than her blush. "Do you? And what are they?" 

His eyes were intent on her, vowing the same thing. "Can't tell you."

Lauren's eyes sparkled at him as if daring him. She pushed away from the table. "That's too bad."

Frodo tightened his teeth and unthreaded his own legs from the table as he watched her get up and go. He grabbed the small candle and strolled three steps behind her. She paused in the pentagon hallway before turning to her own room.

He stopped near his large round door and turned around to steal a peek of her in her nightgown. If there was a light behind her, he could see her supple silhouette through the cotton, but Frodo was left with his vivid imagination at the moment. "May I be permitted a kiss goodnight, at the least?"

Lauren couldn't turn that down, but she blushed at her own imagination when he asked. She turned on her toes and stepped to him patiently. "It's good to know you take rejection like an adult."

Frodo put down the candle. "That's odd," He said thoughtfully and closed the distance to her, already lifting his hands to take her waist. "I never heard a rejection."

Lauren came to him without lifting her arms for him, and gave him a warm kiss on the mouth. Frodo, on the other hand, took up her body with groping palms and pulled her against him. It was deceiving how thin cotton really was. He wrapped his arms snuggly around her waist to keep her torso and all its soft, beautiful curves pressed firmly against him.

She was caught with surprise, but she didn't push him off. Her arms were around his shoulders by the time he pulled his mouth away. And she must have been noticing a few soft bulges herself, for her eyelids fluttered drunkenly open again.

He squeezed his eyes shut to yank his nerves back into grip, and deliberately slid a palm over her hip and up her side. With a breath, her body rose into him and her eyelids fell closed. Her cheeks were the same shade as the last of sundown. He looked for an answer in her expression and grinned arrogantly when he found it.

Frodo started pulling her back into his bedroom. He groped and kissed and held and coaxed until Lauren was moving blindly to his will. When they graced the doorway, he quickly reached out and grabbed the single flame to take into the room with them. But, when he returned to face her, Lauren grabbed him by the face to kiss him even more. 

She started pushing him backward instead.

They rolled into his big bed with an hour of the same old kissing feast they were already comfortable with, but that was followed by several more hours of groping and giggling with embarrassment. It wasn't until the cotton barriers started being inched out of the way that things got intense and terrifying. Sliding palms retreated to mere fingertips. Hungry kissing had been so drugged that it became hardly more than quivering breath behind brushing lips. Somewhere in the middle of the silent affection, the candle ran out of wick and the room fell into absolute darkness.

Fingertips only paused the brief moment it took to realize where the light went, and then started up again as if permission from the Gods had been granted. A knee was dragged out of the way. Claws dug gently into a shoulder blade. A momentary freeze of movement was dislodged with a soft, reassuring kiss. A neck was softly bitten and a throat responded with sound. Sanity lost its grip, emotion galloped into a frolicking canter, and pleasure tumbled over them like an avalanche of rosebuds.


	4. Part 4 Merry

**_Liquor Leaf and Ladies - Kesselia Banta_**

**Part 4 - Merry**

Merry will never rank higher than second best but that's good enough. He's ready to fight the good fight to have her, even if it means sacrificing his bond with Frodo, Sam and Pippin. Now, every ounce of good luck the four ever had is thoroughly spent. Enter Kristana: a tough woman in a tough spot who is reluctant to hand over the pants-in-the-family title over to a customer.

**_Wagging Tails_**

**_Broken Bag End_**

**_Saving Merry_**

**_The Full Monty_**

**_Bad News_**

**_Merry's Midnight Bottle_**

**_Another Man's Wife_**

**_In The Doghouse_**

**_Summer Storms_**

**_Winter Freezes_**

**_Spring Can't Thaw_**

**_Autumn Can't Stay_**

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The moment he woke up, he rolled to his side, scooped her up in his arms, and started kissing her skin. She purred like a kitten to wake up to the affection, but she had good reasons to push him off. 

He didn't go so easily. His hands started groping again; trying to find the places he'd left off at the night before. It made her body slide hungrily under his palms, despite the deepness of her tone. "Stop," she told him, but she was grinning.

He stopped, sighed, and looked her in the eyes with a wonton pout.

She laughed softly at him, wanting him, in love with him, and wishing just as passionately that all the rules and chores and expectations would simply vanish so they could stay and bed and play. But then it was so much fun to watch him squirm too. Dark blue eyes glittered at him. "No."

He grumbled playfully and cussed under his breath as he climbed out of bed. 

"But you can tonight," she offered smoothly.

"You'd say anything just to keep me squirming all day," he bitched.

Her smile was white and big. "Whatever it takes to get you to come back."

He soaked that up into his heart as watched his own fingers button up his shirt. "What if I'd rather come back for a different reason?"

She was quiet for a moment, either not willing or not able to answer him aloud. 

His eyes glanced up to peak at the emotion in her eyes and Meriadoc smiled at what he saw.

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**_Wagging Tails_**

It was going to be a big and busy day, so second breakfast, the larger morning meal of the two, was at Frodo's house. Lauren cooked and talked with Rose, Bailey, and Elanor as each arrived with their escorts. They talked of things the men really didn't care about, and the men they talked of things that the women didn't immediately understand.

Sam stepped into the kitchen with a bold strut and a bright, refreshed smile on his face, "Top of the morning, Frodo!"

Frodo had a twitching smile on his mouth. "G'mornin'.

Merry strutted in next, looking well-slept and alive. He took in Frodo's expression and smiled loudly. "What's the matter, Frodo?" 

Frodo flicked a glance at him until he realized his eyes were going to give it away. "Shut up."

Merry chuckled lightly, gave Lauren a kiss on the cheek as he took a plate, and sat down at the table. 

Pippin was bright and bouncy when he came in as well. "This is going to be a good day," he announced.

"Worked up an appetite already, eh?" Merry commented with a mouthful of biscuit.

Pippin poured milk in his tea and nodded brightly, "Twice."

Frodo set his elbows on the table and hunched his shoulders over like a vulture working very hard to ignore them. And it took only a few minutes of conversation before the other three started exchanging wily glances with each other.

Although sitting around the very same table, complete with a babbling toddler present, the ladies were distracted in a discussion about joining forces and spending the morning to make a large batch of lemonade. They were still absolutely clueless as to the nature of the conversation.

Pippin was chewing on a potato wedge as he studied Merry's telling grin. Merry scooped up a spoonful of eggs and stuffed them into his mouth to hide it, but flicked his chin over to the other side of the table as he chewed.

Pippin's brows lowered over his eyes as he looked at the other two. Frodo and Sam were separated by women to whom they were currently paying no attention. Sam leaned over his plate to take a large bite out of a sausage patty with his fingers. He found Pippin's eyes as he chewed.

Sam's eyes glittered with humor and flicked over to motion to Frodo.

Pippin set an elbow on the table, biting off another piece of his potato wedge, and blatantly studied Frodo. Frodo was oblivious at first. He picked up his mug for a sip of tepid tea before he caught Pippin's narrowed glare.

His eyes dashed down, his face flushed, and he forced himself to sigh slowly and calm quickly as he hid behind his mug. Recovered, he took in another sip.

Pippin blurted loudly, "You're lookin' a little shaggy around the snout this morning, Frodo." Frodo snorted tea through his nose. He slid quickly away from the table and ducked to cough it out and wipe it free. Merry had a jam covered roll in his fingers. He tucked behind the back of hand to snicker. Sam's face went red instantly because he was trying hard not to laugh it out and essentially spit sausage from his mouth. He stomped his foot instead.

The ladies had stopped their conversation to look quizzically at the red-faced, snickering men. Pippin was the only one of them that was calm, but he was quiet and grinning at it all. His eyes turned to Lauren and Rose to wink once with reassurance. 

They were not reassured.

Sam calmed his tightly contained laughter enough to defend the lad. "How about letting out a good howl of vic- _Owe_!" He winced with pain. No one saw what caused it; only that Rose glanced casually over at her husband. 

Merry cackled out laughter anew, Pippin now laughed at Sam, and Frodo had glanced up just in time to see Sam's pained expression before slamming them shut again and cussing momentarily into his palm.

All four men took great pains to calm their laughter to before the questions started flying. They breathed deeply and focused on their food. Mouths rippled with threats of new laughter, but another sigh and a cleared throat calmed it down again.

Frodo was the first to speak, "Thank you, Rose."

Rose was casual. "You're welcome, Frodo."

Bailey tucked into Pippin's shoulder and whispered, "What is going on?"

Pippin sat up straight and rubbed his palms together. His voice was too terribly bright for the subject of his statement. "Well, I'm anxious to get to work. How 'bout you?"

Bailey looked up at her fiancé like he'd been possessed.

Sam nodded swiftly, "Grand idea, Pip."

"Great breakfast," Merry exclaimed as he got out of his chair. 

The men were leaving as fast as they casually could and the ladies were already moving to start cleaning up. Lauren took a step back out of the way to watch the first three walk lightly down the hall. She looked to Frodo with wary questions in her eyes.

Frodo had a soft smile and tucked in to kiss her deeper on the cheek that Merry would have dared. He whispered into her ear with enough tenderness to make it feel like a sweet nothing, "Thanks for breakfast."

Lauren warmed flirtatiously and forgot to ask.

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**_Broken Bag End_**

It was back breaking work with just the four Hobbits and one pony to do it with, but their minds were focused and their goal was the same. The small, four acre patch was completely plowed by lunchtime, at which point they were treated with two large blankets in the grass on which to sit, a giant bowl full of crust-less sandwiches, and several gallons of cool, cherry lemonade. After only a short rest to eat, drink, and digest, the men crawled back onto their dirty feet and dragged themselves back to work. 

Elanor reached out to enjoy the tall wildflowers on the fat, untouched swatch between the homes. The ladies sat on the back slope in dresses of butter yellow, burnt orange, and spring green and loosely hugged their knees to watch the sweaty shirts, dark suspenders, and mud-colored trousers move back out to the newly uglified field. The men walked the field in a close group, smashing mud clods and tossing out the last of the rocks. 

Frodo gazed over the whole of the field as he walked, apparently trying to calculate yield. He was pretty clueless how to estimate that, but looked at it keenly enough so that he appeared to have the math under control. Since Lauren had come into the picture, Frodo started looking a little meatier. His clothes were still baggy, but you could see it in his calves and forearms that he'd been fed well. He smiled a lot more often as well. Now that the lines of age were just starting to form, Frodo's face would wrinkle smiling instead of scowling. 

Merry was on a trough of his own and throwing out rocks with big baseball throws. His dark coat flapped at his side when he threw it. Merry slept in the stables when he was in Hobbiton, and the last few months he'd been in Hobbiton more often than not. And though he didn't carry around a change of clothes with him, his yellow vest and well-sewn shirt were quite clean. In fact, his hair was light and fluffy, his skin scrubbed, and his smile was uncluttered – very odd attributes for a vagabond. The other three hobbit men knew the answer, but no one else had the care to figure out how he managed it. 

An arms length away from Merry, Sam shuffled his feet with a dropped head to scan for imperfections in the plowing. As almost a silhouette against the green hills beyond, it was clear to see that Sam's belly was rounding out faster than the others, but it was roundy to begin with. Sam was the epitome of the happy middle-aged hobbit with his wife, kids, humble home, and outlook on life. 

The thinnest of them all at this point was Pippin. He strolled an arms reach away from Sam's other side. But Pippin's time as gangly, playful boy was ticking rapidly away. Bailey already knew how to cook, she just needed a kitchen to do it in. If the goal came forth as planned, Bailey would have her kitchen and Pippin would have his six plus meals a day without having to run from farmers for it. But the bonus was that Pippin would be close enough to the others every evening to round out the complete set. 

It was inevitable. There would be a living room set up on somebody's porch where all the old, comfortable, weathered chairs would end up in a half circle facing the road, the sunset or both. They were going to be four very fed, very round hobbits with leaf-stained teeth, gray hair, and an endless stream of stories unsuitable for mixed company. They would eat pie straight out of the tin. The beer would flow incessantly into their favorite mugs. They would protect the little girls from insult. They would teach the little boys how to light fireworks. They would steal apples from the kitchen. They would make sly comments about sexual positions, locations, frequency, and boast, of course, about the heftiness of the equipment. And if they were ever called to stand for their behavior, one would produce the richest, most grandiose of lies, and the other three would swear it was the absolute and undisputed truth. 

Merry screamed.

The ladies sat up to find the man half as tall as he was a minute ago and scrambling at the mud for a grip. Sam was already at his side, grabbing an arm and yelling. Frodo and Pippin were rushing over to help.

Bailey and Lauren immediately came to their feet, picked up their skirts and took off in a full run into the muddy field. Rose stood too, but glanced back to check on Elanor. Sam saw a glimpse of the ladies first, but still held Merry's whole arm as if to keep him from being swallowed into the earth, "No! Don't come out here!"

Frodo turned and his eyes got wider. "Lauren! Bailey! Get back! Stay back!"

Pippin had dropped to his knees on Merry's other side and was so focused on saving his friend that he only glanced over at the girls as they were moving away again. Rose heard the shouting and ran back out to the backyard. Bailey and Lauren met up with her and explained what little they knew. 

Was it quicksand? No, the pony and plow would have discovered it first.

From the edge of the field, it was hard to tell what was wrong. Someone mentioned the pony, and two others shook their heads at the idea. Merry looked have simply fell on his rear but was still perfectly upright. Sam's orange hair was in his straining face as if to keep someone from pulling Merry away from him. He set his feet firmly in the next trough and held onto Merry's right arm with all his might. Sam was clenching his teeth and heaving a deep, worried sigh from time to time. The men discussed options in with tension, but were quiet enough to be unintelligible.

Pippin dug his knees into the trench on Merry's left side, trying to coax Merry to reach and wrap his arm around Pip's shoulders. Frodo tried to straddle the trench behind Merry and squatted down to hook his elbows under the man's armpits. 

The four men counted to three and pulled. Merry cried in pain as his broken leg was pulled free, and the field started to disappear in front of him. 

"Dear lord," Rosie grabbed Lauren's hand with tension and started to step back. "It's a sinkhole."

Bailey's eyes went wide, flicking from the Bag End, to Bagshot Row, to the small field they'd just plowed. Torn between wanting to run out to help pull the men, and staying back in the safety of root-knotted grass as ordered, Bailey grabbed Rosie's other hand and winced to watch. Rose tore away from them and raced to pluck Elanor out of the grass.

All three men stumbled back away from the moving earth to grab Merry's arms and torso, scrambling backwards in the mud and dragging his limp body with them. All sets of eyes widened as the land sank away like tumbling sand in front of them in a giant crescent at first, and then rapidly growing larger in all directions. 

Pippin tripped. Bailey screamed for him. Lauren grabbed her hand and kept her to stay back, though she was straining just as fearfully. The men frantically pushed themselves back out of the bowl, climbing up and out just as the ground kept tumbling away from underneath their legs and hindquarters. Every one of them always had a hand on Merry, yanking him backwards by the shirt collar or hand or elbow, even if it meant a suffocating demise for all four of them. 

The rumble of crumbling land sounded like hollow earthquake and the bowl settled at a good six to eight feet deep. The collapse never slowed. It simply stopped in an ordinary chink and continued to ripple to a stop like a zipper. The men continued to scramble clumsily backwards, yanking Merry with them, even if it was obvious the land was solid beneath them again. 

The sinkhole was the shape of a twice bitten circle and nearly the size of an acre when it was finished. It tucked up a foot or two beyond the back edge of plowed ground and created cliffs of mud against the short mound of a hill on the other side. Its south side never made it to the road or Sam's yard, but had crawled too close to do anything safely with the wide, plowed strips it hadn't taken. The east side of it, the one that literally chased them off the field, had only eaten half the width between the initial spot Merry punched through and where the ladies had been standing to watch. And the north side, reaching up the oval bowl behind Bag End, stopped only in time to leave two good acres to farm.

All four of them were smeared with mud. Black speckles and fat splotches sprinkled their faces and hair. Frodo was the first to stop scrambling and fell back into the dirt with relief. Merry dropped back into Frodo's lap. Pippin sank down to his elbow to calm his cool breath, clasping Merry's palm and holding it firm. Sam didn't untangle his arm from Merry's. His brows slanted sadly at the condition of the field, now completely unfarmable, and glanced back at how close his house was with a further drain of hope. No sinkhole was ever as small as the first time it crumbled.

Had they not dug up the old grass that had cemented itself over the pocket, they probably had several more years before the thing collapsed. But as it stood now, Bag End and the better two of the houses in Bagshot Row were at risk of being swallowed just as Merry's legs did. 

The ladies gathered their skirts and started move out again, whether they were yelled at or not about it, but three of the four men spat the orders again with angry shouts and mean faces. 

"Don't you come out here!" Sam warned Rosie, the most stubborn of the bunch.

"You need help." 

Frodo shook his head back to them. "Don't come in the field."

It was rare to see Sam put his foot down so stiff and effective as this order. "_Don't you come out here!"_

Pippin muttered and Sam nodded. Merry winced silently.

Frodo turned to the women again. "We need washwater, the back room bed prepared, and the doctor."

The ladies took the orders and sped away, leaving the four men alone in the field to concentrate how to pull their next trick. 

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**_Saving Merry_**

None of them had moved more than a turn of the heads since they stopped crawling away on their backs, and due to the few minutes of rest, Merry had closed his eyes and was able to relax his breathing a little. The man's right leg wasn't bent in any unnatural directions, but despite being covered in mud, the foot was obviously swelling and turning a shade of bruised.

"How are we going to do this?" Sam wondered aloud. 

Pippin still held Merry's hand firmly. "Is it just your right leg?"

Merry swallowed dryly. "So far."

Pippin moved back to his knees without letting go. "Well, let's keep it that way, just for good measure."

Frodo scooted closer and cradled the wounded Hobbit's head on his thigh. "We're going to have to let the leg hang."

Sam nodded. "Pippin on your left. I'm on your right. You hang on our shoulders with both arms and we'll grab underneath your back."

Pippin nodded at the plan and positioned himself under Merry's arm. "Frodo, get his good leg."

Frodo waited for the other two get a good grip on Merry before removing himself as a headrest. He stepped carefully around Pippin to collect Merry's left leg. 

As soon as they were in place, all four took a collective breath and in perfect unison, they strained, lifted, and hurried off the field with tiny, speeding steps.

"Open the door!" Frodo growled and the back door was suddenly opened to his command. They shuffled into the house and immediately lay Meriadoc on the patient bed, regardless that the black mud immediately smudged a mess onto the white sheets. Lauren draped a blanket over him before any of the men removed their grips to step away. Rosie brought in a stack of old cleaning rags with which the other three started tenderly wiping off the mud from Merry's face and leg.

Merry just lay there limply, trying to keep his breathing calm and his teeth from clenching too tightly. The doctor calmly came in and took in the situation with a serious face. Scissors were fetched, hot water was delivered, a wooden spoon was requested, and the ladies were ordered from the room. Rosie had to leave anyway. Elanor was becoming a crying nuisance because of the tension. Bailey and Lauren were left to listen to the whole thing from the hall. 

Sliced off, muddy trousers started a pile in the corner and were rapidly joined by the entire stack of rags that had cleaned up Merry's leg and face. Pippin's voice was heard more than anyone else's. He was right next to Merry's head offering a strong set of hands to squeeze as well as keeping Merry's from panicky reaching to protect his leg from their work. Pippin's eyes were intense, but he managed to keep muttering jokes and words of encouragement. Frodo and Sam became the Doctor's handy men to straighten the leg and set it in a stiff splint.

It took several long and difficult tries to get the splint on it right. Merry started out with the handle of the wooden spoon between his teeth and growled out with inexplicable panic and pain. His unintelligible, mean swearing eventually crumbled to weeping and begging for them to stop. When the doctor finally let them, all four of faces collapsed.

A new bucket of water and a new stack of linens were put to use on the rest of Merry's body. Sheets were a trick to change. A fire was started. Hard liquor was declined telling them just how badly he really felt. Extra pillows were fetched. Rose brought a plate of crumb-less food to feed him. She was thanked and sent home again. 

The doctor left. Bailey kissed Pippin on the temple and left too. Sam stepped to the bedside to look Merry in the eye and give him a flat mouth of sympathy. Merry's eyes were only open to slits now. The strange shape of his mouth grinned a little, and a hand waved the man off, so Sam went home.

The evening crept into a cool night. Lauren brought out rinsed rags, new hot water, one of Frodo's nightgowns, and a bed pad for the floor, all by Frodo's whispered instruction. When she returned to the kitchen, she was still buzzing with adrenaline to try to help, and Frodo watched her easily from the smial wearing nothing but his ankle-length nightgown.

She put a few things away that could have waited until tomorrow. She set out a cutting board, clean knife, and a bowl of apples just in case they got hungry during the night. She looked around the kitchen in search of anything else Merry might need, but her mind came up empty.

Frodo was calm and commanding about it. He had a gentle voice even if it was somewhat of an order, and he had an unmistakable flicker in his blue eyes. "Come to bed."

Lauren stood tall on the other end of the kitchen from him. She placed a palm on her chest, trying to calm her nervous energy, and gave Frodo a double take at the unusual request.

Frodo started to grin. His chin nodded a touch, confirming that he meant what he said. He held out a hand for her take.

She moved quickly to him but didn't take his hand. "You don't have your clothes on," she whispered loudly."

He sighed patiently and kept her eyes. "Does that matter now?"

"We have company." Lauren came back at him with a tighter look in her eyes and stiffness in her whisper. "What if they get up before us and come looking for me? Or for you? What if they get up in the middle of the night?"

"Lauren," he tried not to smile at such an overreaction and tried to comfort her worries. He cradled her jaw line to try to keep her eyes on him. "It's all right." His smile flashed a little. "They're my best friends-"

"You didn't _tell_ them did you?!" Her whisper came out almost evil-sounding now. "They don't think we've -- . . . . _Did you_?"

The hope in blue eyes and the smile on his open mouth rapidly faded. "Well, it sort of slipped."

Her eyes went wide. Her face started to flush with a different kind of blush. It was real embarrassment this time. She took a deep breath and calmed herself down. And Frodo watched her become reasonable again.

But her eyes flicked back to him just as tartly, "Was that what you were laughing about over breakfast?"

Frodo's mouth opened a long minute before he pushed any words out of it.

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**_The Full Monty_**

The back room was closed off from the rest of the world with a curtain hanging from the polished tree root. A fire crackled out steady air of heat and dryness in the attempt to prevent gangrene. Merry's eyes drifted closed, but not necessarily asleep, and that's when Pippin finally left his side. 

Still, Pippin only traveled a few feet away. He got up off the bed and started stripping of his mud-caked shirt and suspenders. 

"You can go home, Pip," Merry whispered tiredly.

"I know." Pippin didn't look at him. He wadded his shirt and tossed it into the pile of other mud-caked ware to be sorted through and washed in the morning. He started tearing away the buttons of his trousers.

Merry was weary, but not sleepy. He grinned a little. "Peregrin. Go home."

Pippin wadded up the trousers and tried to toss them over from where he stood to see if he could get the right aim at the pile. "No."

"Lauren can look after me just fine."

"I'm not leaving." He performed a cursory wash in the bucket just to get off all the caked mud and glanced over his shoulder to see if Merry was going to give it up yet or not.

Merry had closed his eyes already and shook his head with a tired grin. 

Pippin grinned at himself for the win and stood tall. He took a clean rag and buried his face in it to start drying off.

A crack sounded in the hall.

Merry and Pippin exchanged strange glances until they heard bare feet shuffle lazily to them. Pippin moved the rag out of his face to dry off his neck and shoulders. The curtain came aside and Frodo stepped through it. 

The pink handprint was coming clear on his left cheek. Though humored, Frodo looked a little unsure about what just happened.

Pippin chuckled. "I'm glad I'm not the only one that happens to."

"He was tryin' to reap the benefits from my suffering." Merry teased quietly.

Pippin smiled full beam over a Merry and wiped his arms down, "It's more like he was trying to _sow_ some benefits."

_"Pippin, you-"_ The curtain flashed aside so she could burn her eyes into him, but her anger was replaced by a fearful yelp when she saw Pippin wearing nothing but raindrops. Pippin was leaner around the shoulders, his belly was strong and flat, but the manly hair on his feet didn't stop at his feet. It didn't even stop at his knees--   Lauren slapped both palms over her eyes even though they were squeezed shut, the curtain fell closed just as fast and small, bare feet pitter-pattered away.

Pippin never had the chance to react, much less cover himself, before she ran off again. He looked at Frodo and looked at Merry with a perplexed grin. "Perhaps I should have saluted."

 Frodo couldn't keep his laughter contained, even though it probably wasn't all that funny to Lauren. Merry didn't care. He rolled out a laugh from deep in his chest,  "Put that damn thing away."

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**_Bad News_**

Three of the four farmers stepped back out to the field at daybreak to look at the damage and perhaps exhume a plan B. The sinkhole had grown a foot or two to the north and was starting to fill with a soupy spring of mud-colored water. If there were a spring in that dirt that was fighting to emerge, water would rapidly eat away at the sinkhole and eventually the foundation beneath their houses as well. 

Sam tumbled down to sit on the edge of Bag End's small green slope with draining confidence. He stuck his fingers into his bangs and looked at the mess for several minutes of painful disbelief. Pippin motioned north and west, talking out ideas. Frodo pointed to the road to the south where the water would soon empty out of the new bowl and eat the road on its way down slope. Pippin dropped his head back. Sam closed his eyes, already feeling the thinness of next winter. Frodo stepped out to the middle of the plowed field to look down its center. He clasped his hands behind his head as he studied it, cursed, and flopped his hands down again at the stinging lack of ideas.

After strolling around the field for a few hours, testing the sturdiness of the earth, and throwing bad ideas back and forth, Frodo, Sam and Pippin gathered again in the back room to talk it all over with Meriadoc present.

Rose came in and stood at the hall, "Well?" Bailey strolled a little slower Elanor on her hip to hear it out too. When Lauren realized the front room had emptied, she went looking and found the crowd in the back room with muddy feet and grim faces. 

Frodo sat on the floor next to the fireplace and loosely hugged a single knee as he laid all this out for everyone. The truth was that they didn't know how much it was going to sink, but even if they did, they shouldn't touch it until it was done doing it on its own. Hopefully, if left untouched, it would calm down until the summer dried out, but it would be a matter of great luck (that they were convinced they'd already spent) to keep it from sinking more during the autumn rot and the winter wet before spring roots of wild grass would bind the dirt together again.

If the water kept rising, they would need to get out there with shovels to control its direction so that it didn't wash away the road or drain into Sam's bottom-hill house. Meanwhile, they had a 25-pound sack of strawberry seed that poor Merry put out a several shining shillings for, not to mention six weeks with a broken femur, and now they didn't have anywhere to plant it. 

 "We'll get through the winter." Frodo told them all. "We'll bind together as family like we always do. No one's going to starve."

"We're hardly going to starve." Sam squinted a little, hoping Frodo didn't mean it that severely.

"I can still see the worry in your eyes."

Sam pressed his mouth a little and glanced over at his wife's worried brow and swollen belly.

Frodo looked at Bailey. "I see it in your eyes too." 

Bailey's eyes were indeed staring worriedly at what Frodo had to say. Pippin was standing behind her. He squeezed her fingers and dropped his forehead to the top of her shoulder. He ducked his chin with a nod and sighed through his nose. Bailey turned her head his direction, adjusted Elanor on her hip and tried to consol him with a kiss in his dark blonde curls. 

Frodo turned to Merry. The last man was lying in the same position on his back, propped up only a little with pillows behind his head and shoulders, and hardly turning his head to stay with the conversation. 

"You're staying right where you are. I know your mum can take care of you but you shouldn't be moved for at least two weeks. You tell me what you need and I'll make sure it's taken care of. Don't think for a moment you're putting me out."

Merry smiled, "I get to lie in bed and eat Lauren's blueberry pie for two weeks while I watch the three of you dig up mud out this little window?" Merry chuckled weakly, "I wouldn't miss this for all the fireworks in Middle-earth."

Merry's comment got everyone to grin a little and start breathing again, but it was momentary at best. A review of Meriadoc's leg that afternoon brought new fear to everyone's eyes. His leg had turned a medium shade of purple and it was still swelling. He didn't complain about it outright, he just offered a description. It was a single, bright, steady throb of pain throughout his leg, and focused in the middle of his thigh. He couldn't sleep yet, he could only rest. It was the continuing swelling that concerned them all. If it didn't look better by the third morning, he requested the doctor be fetched again.

Until then, a different medicine would be required. Frodo took a bottle of aged whiskey out of the pantry and handed it voicelessly to Sam. Sam looked at it and all that it meant, and nodded. He set it on a shelf that was in Pippin's line of sight so that Bailey didn't notice it up front. As soon as she was distracted elsewhere, Pippin carried the whiskey bottle to the back room. He set it in a dark, dusty book shelf on the other side of the room yet still directly in Merry's line of sight. Merry didn't look directly at Pippin. His eyes fell tiredly closed and his chin nodded. 

For the rest of that day, the bulging bottle sat proud and silent, staring back at Meriadoc  as a statement of fact.

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**_Merry's _****_Midnight_****_ Bottle_**

From this half–lain position, Merry turned his head and his eyes to check on Sam's progress. "Y'know, Sam, I'd sure like to numb this pain while my leg is still broken."

"I'm working on it!" Sam spat with a wrinkled nose.

Sam was never very good at this, and the difficulty showed in his face. He pulled out a knot of the crispy, green tobacco and tried not to smash it to dust while stuffing it snugly in the tiny pipe head. "Besides, we're not supposed to start until Pippin gets here."

Frodo lounged back against folded bedding. "I think Pippin will make an exception tonight."

Merry simply needed to meet his eyes for a single, not-so-patient moment for Frodo to receive his request. 

Frodo sat up and scooted over to Sam on his rump. "Give it here," he whined softly. Sam slumped before he handed it over but Frodo gave the man a gentle grin of understanding.

Sam dropped back against the side of the bed. "Rosie won't let me smoke. I've hardly had a pipe to me-self since she got pregnant."

Frodo reached over Sam's head to hand the readied pipe up to Merry. "You say it like it was all her fault." 

A grin threatened to grow on Sam's face, but he fought it off. "It _is_ her fault. _I'm_ the victim here."

Frodo reached back to the fireplace to grab a couple of six-inch-long matches and tossed one over onto the bed. He chuckled.

Sam continued, "One minute she gives me this . . .  _look_. . .  and the next minute she's pregnant. And I'm the one that suffers without tobacco for eight months." The other two were finding this claim funny enough to laugh softly about it, so Sam did too. 

Frodo smiled at Sam as he took the pipe and burning match Merry passed down. He reheated the embers and pulled in a long, easy drag from the elegantly long mouth piece, but was still holding his breath when he offered it, brows lifted, to Sam.

Sam was pulled out of his sarcasm by the strange scent and the different way in which it was smoked. He sat up and leaned to look into the pipe head Frodo was offering. His eyes rolled suspiciously over to Frodo. "What kind of leaf is that?"

Merry turned his head with a deep sigh and a brand new, softly glazed grin in his eyes. "It's a particularly choice cut of Peregrin Blend."

Sam's eyes rolled to Merry. "Pippin doesn't grow leaf."

Merry agreed with a nod. "No, _I_ grow leaf. . . . Peregrin Blend is so named because smoking it makes you act like Pippin."

Sam considered this for a long heartbeat. _How much trouble will I get into? _But the heartbeat was over soon. Sam took the pipe into his mouth and held it with his teeth as he took the match. "When Rose comes at me with a skillet, you guys have to back me up."

"Right behind yeh." Frodo leaned back almost until he was on the floor so he could reach the bedding and pull it over to where he sat. 

Sam tried to hold his breath and cough at the same time. He whipped the matched out before it burned his fingers. He handed the long sloping pipe back up to Merry, and Frodo tossed the injured another long match. 

Merry curled his hand under to take the pipe from the man in his blind spot. "Where is-" 

The back door started to open. 

Merry held off on his puff so he could snap at the man. "Where in hell were you?"

Pippin's face was hung on the fact that they started without him for a moment, but blinked out of it at Merry's question. His eyes leered at Merry's discontent with concern. 

He stepped up to the bedside and took the pipe Merry offered him. "I was staking my claim on a leg." He kept the man's eyes as he pulled in his first long puff, daring Merry to make an issue out of it. 

Merry settled against his backrest, tucked his eyes to his lap and nodded. He forced his tone to lighten a little. "So, how was your leg?"

Satisfied, Pippin pulled up another set of bedding and sat down on it. "Quite tasty, actually." He sat cross-legged on the bedding as though it was a shelf, but it only lifted him two inches off the cold stone floor. "There's something about talking houses that always seems to crank her up a couple of notches." 

Merry nodded wisely. This part of Bailey didn't surprise anybody. 

"I saw you looking impishly looking at Bagshot #2." Frodo teased.

Pippin deliberately gave him an impish grin. "And how might I barter you out of said Bagshot #2?" 

Frodo reached the pipe back up to Merry. "Take it."

Pippin was already starting to wonder how long ago the two had started on his special blend. "You don't want me to buy it?"

Sam shook his head, "It needs a lot of work. The roof leaks and there's a draft through the bedroom."

"You're not getting any family money to move away from Tookborough," Frodo pointed out. 

Merry sniffed and added lightly. "And Liam Bracegirdle's not gonna let you steal her away to a Hall." 

Pippin looked at the three of them with bitterness in his eyes. "Gee, I feel so cheery now."

"Take the house," Frodo repeated.

Merry chuckled. "Besides, you go through the efforts of saving up the money to buy it and he'll just end up lending it back you so you can fix it up."

"Frodo doesn't have any money to lend me," Pippin pointed out, suddenly sounding like the wiser, most mature one of the bunch. He scratched the bridge of his nose with his index finger, and angled his head with a light comment to Frodo. "Perhaps we should discuss this when you aren't so incredibly stoned."

Frodo blinked hot, dry eyes and wagged a finger at Pip. "You're probably right."

Sam's sat with his shoulders curled over. He squinted over at Pippin with sleepiness in his eyes. "Aren't you worried about the sinkhole swallowing the row?"

Pippin looked directly into Sam's hazy eyes. "Wouldn't you rather have me beside you trying to prevent that?"

Sam and Frodo studied the man like he'd just said something in a different language. 

They glanced at each other, shrugged, and then Sam reached for the jug. "What's in this?" 

Pippin leaned his shoulder against the side of the bed and squinted up at Merry. "Did you _get_ any of it?"

Merry passed down the burnt pipe and hooked a hand behind his head. He waved a hand at the other two who were already half asleep and drooping like dying flowers. "They're just out of practice." 

"How are you feeling?" Pippin lifted the blanket to check the leg's color again. It was too dark to tell.

"I'm roasting comfortably on a spit now. Thank you for fetching the leaf for me."

"You're quite welcome." He retrieved the pipe and started packing up a second helping. The room grew quiet as he did this. Frodo and Sam were leaning in odd directions against each other. The pair stared at nothing through slits in their eyelids. 

Merry's expression was tired and melancholy. He stared at Pippin for a long time.

Pippin caught it as he was puffing the pipe to life again. He took in the gaze and casually stared back, wondering what was on the man's mind. Finally, he lifted a brow. "What?"

"You haven't hit the pub with me lately." Merry muttered.

Pippin flattened his mouth with apologies, and then tried to smile. His brows shrugged slowly, guiltily, knowing the answer, but not knowing how to say it. Instead, he chewed on the end of the pipe before sucking down another helping. "You knew it was going to happen sooner or later."

Merry reached a hand out to request the jug. "Yeah, but I always thought it would be me that happened first."

"Me too." Pippin lifted the jug to him and made sure Merry had it with both hands before he let go. "Likely would be true were she not already espoused."

Merry's eyes slid over to Pippin while he was still taking a swig. Then he remembered that he'd already admitted near that much the last time they drank on the river. 

Pippin rested an elbow on the bed by Merry's knee. "Does she know you're laid up with a broken leg?"

Merry hugged the jug with one arm and nodded. "Yep."

Pippin's mouth twisted trying to figure that out. _Who would have told her if no one knew who she was?. . .  unless she was already here… _His eyes bulged at the sleepy Samwise Gamgee, and flicked to Merry with shock and questions. 

Merry's face flinched at the accusation and shook his head like Pippin was crazy. "Don't be ridiculous."

Pippin slapped his chest with a breath of relief that it wasn't Rose. That would have been a mess to be caught in the middle of--

Pippin's head lifted, then his eyes lifted. His face was so struck that only his lower teeth were showing. "Caught in the middle." He whispered it, "That's why you won't tell me."

Merry shifted his eyes back to his lap. He chewed on his lower lip uncomfortably. "It's not that I don't trust you, Pip.  Your loyalties have shifted."

Pippin checked that the other two were off in never-never land and scooted closer to lower his whisper. "I'd have to tell Bailey, wouldn't I?"

"I didn't want to put you in a spot." Merry folded his lips tightly together. He knew what was coming next.

Pippin's eyes burned into the air. As the puzzle pieces fell into place, his eyes lit up with understanding, died quickly as he realized the circumstances, and finally collapsed a sigh at the pickle Merry had gotten himself into. "Oh _fuck_."

The lad wasn't exaggerating. Merry sat back and let him work through the shock by himself. 

Pippin's gray eyes rolled back to him soon enough, studying him again, almost accusingly. "How long?"

A tongue went into a molar. "Off and on since we got back."

Pippin's brows flicked into his forehead. 

"I'm not even sure how it started. She needed food for the tot and I needed… well you know what Ineeded." Merry sighed heavily. "And I just. . .  kept going… _back_."

"You had an eye for her when we were kids," Pippin pointed out.

Merry rolled his head back to Pippin and met the reality up front. "Yeah, until she married _Bailey's big brother_."

"Dirkwallen's been missing for two years."

"But not three," Merry insisted, almost sitting up to do so. "The rule is three years before a widow is declared. Three years and not a day before. You _know_ Liam Bracegirdle isn't going to fold on that one."

Pippin considered the temperament of his future father–in-law, especially when it came to the eldest (and likely dead) son. '_When my boy comes home, Peregrin, you'll have more than me to answer to!' _Pippin mouth pressed with difficulty. "No, I'd guess not."

Merry sat back and settled his shoulders in. "She's from poor roots. Every time she goes to Bracegirdle hall, they give her troubles and tease her that she's not one of them. His parents never even accepted the match. Dirkwallen's money didn't last but a few months. Now they think Kristana stole all the money and is just milking the Bracegirdles for more. Little Mick couldn't wait for porridge or warm clothes," he inhaled and pinched his nose a little, Merry sniffed quickly, "so I took care of it."

Pippin had a half smile on his face. He shook his head at Merry in disbelief and shucked out a bigger grin. "You've been shagging Kristana for a year and a half and I didn't know a thing about it." Pippin shook his head. "I fairly well suspected we were growing apart Merry, but…." His eyes sobered, "this is almost insulting."

Merry's eyes met Pippin's and a somber grin was on his face too. "Bailey distracted you enough to miss the clues."

Pippin tilted his head, then he picked up the jug again. "Want some more?"

Merry reached over. 

Frodo rolled over and reached too.

Pippin looked down at Frodo like he was a beetle crawling out from under a table. "You can't have any unless you can at least sit up."

Frodo pushed himself to sit up, blinked over bone-dry eyes and reached again. 

Pippin took a swig and gave it to Merry, since he was the first one that asked.

Frodo sloppily rubbed his nose with the back of his hand and squinted at Merry. "What's this about you shaggin' Anna for a year and a half?"

Pippin and Merry exchanged grins. 

"_Anna_?" Merry smiled. "The only Anna I know is that perky bar wench in Oatbarton."

Frodo had to think on that. "The mangirl?"

Merry passed down the sour mash to Frodo. "It could be done, just haven't yet."

"You wouldn't reach her navel," Pippin teased.

"Doesn't make it impossible," Merry said confidently, settling back again, "Just makes it interesting."

Sam sat up and shuffled so he could lean against Frodo. "I think I skipped the stoned and went right to the sleep."

Frodo only had to turn his head an inch to tell it to the side of Sam's face, bringing his friend up to date. "Meriadoc shagged that brunette bar wench in Oatbarton."

Sam's brows had troubles with this. "But she's got to be six feet tall!"

Frodo shrugged. "I could stand on your shoulders. We could make it a group effort."

"Ha!" Sam spouted and curled in to shudder out a chuckle about the image that inflicted. Frodo dropped his head back and laughed too. Merry squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. Pippin scratched the back of his head and fondly watched the pair cackle together.

Frodo rolled his head up again and reached for the bottle. Pippin handed it over this time. Frodo was taking a bottom's up swig when Sam spoke. 

"Forget all that shite about the Ring." Sam said, wagging a finger in the air. "Shagging a six foot tall bar wench together… Now, _that's_ what I call teamwork."

Merry tossed his head back against the pillow and Pippin curled over to snigger into his lap. Frodo snorted sour mash out of his nose and still managed to laugh despite the groan of pain. His nose stung first and burned there after. He pinched it and opened his mouth wide to pant for air to cool it, but nothing worked. His eyes started tearing but his lungs were still laughing weakly at Sam's comment. He nearly rolled onto one side in the attempt to recover and started wiping the snorted liquor off his face. Sam scooted once to pat Frodo on the shoulder with concern, but he started chortling again, and Frodo soon joined him still thinking the comment absolutely hilarious. "Why do you keep doing that to me?!"

Pippin's brows lifted into his forehead with delight about the laughter coming unnaturally out of the pair, especially after such a bad day. "Time to roll 'em over. I think they're done roasting on that side."

Merry's head and eye reached back to see them a little, but he stopped the stretch to nod agreement at Pippin.

Sam wavered as he sat up, put both hands on Frodo's hip and leg, and started rolling him over. 

Frodo fought off Sam and pushed himself up grumpily. "He was speaking phorometically, Sam."

Merry tossed his head back again with full, loud laughter.

"Don't you mean nymosynatically?" Sam answered, but his eyes shifted, "Wait-"

Frodo giggled at his mistake, "No. Your right. I meant a millisimile, didn't I?"

"Millisimile?" Merry echoed.

Pippin gave them a new grin. "I _was_ speaking phoro-metically, Frodo. And while we're speaking a such, may I inquire just how much of fruit you put in your Lauren's basket?"

Frodo kept Pippin's eyes the whole speech and shook his head when Pippin was finished. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Merry stuffed an arm behind his head and grinned, "He wants to know how long Lauren's been wrapped around your maypole."

Frodo blinked hard and shook his head. His face turned bright pink.

Sam leaned into Frodo and yelled into his ear, "How many times have you had your knob buffed by your housemaid?"

Frodo tried to slap a hand over Sam's mouth to which every one glanced over. "My housemaid is still in the house."

All four went silent to listen for stirs in the darkness. 

Frodo shifted indignant eyes back to Sam and whispered it, "Blighter."

"Cretin." Sam hissed back with a smile already shining alive in his eyes again.

"Goonie." 

Sam sniggered a little, but they quieted again, still listening. Eyes started smiling again despite the haze in their minds. Three of them piped up nearly at the same moment. _"Dog!"_ All four of them were laughing between weak attempts to howl. 

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**_Another Man's Wife_**

This time, the entertainment substances were so strong that the conscious part of the night was over as fast as it started. It wasn't long before Sam and Frodo melted against each other until the dead weight of completely passing out made Sam fall over sideways and Frodo dribble backwards. Pippin was laying face down against his open arm at Merry's side and drifting off quickly.

The only eyes still open were Merry's. He stared at nothing, but looked at everything; from faded memories of Dirkwallen and recent memories of her tears. Merry was far too empathic about it. He wanted to absorb all the fear and pain for her just so she wouldn't have to endure it. Sometimes it appeared he could actually do that, that his show of comfort to her lifted weight off her shoulders and make her eyes smile again, but most of the time he was just feeling it with her.

He knew she'd be all right without him for the time it took to mend, of course that estimate extended every day the swelling got worse instead of better. He didn't know if she would worry or not. She always heard word through the grapevine, namely Bailey, if he was going to be out of town, and the system had been working for some time. For year already, Merry had kept her well stocked in either food or the money for it without anyone but Kristana and Mick knowing he'd been by. 

Little Mick only saw Merry as the nice man who brought the groceries. That was intentional. But Kristana …

Meriadoc did have an eye for her when they were younger. Kristana knew that. But social winds change often with teenagers, and Kristana slipped out of his fingers as quickly and painlessly as she fell into them. People grow up and people get older. Despite rare visits and few friends in common, Merry and Kristana were always appropriately friendly and warm to one another. She was sweet and flirty; the girl with the long eyelashes, summer-shiney hair, deep blue eyes and the most swollen bodice. She was the one in the crowd that all the gents would try after first. It was no surprise that the handsome, upstanding, proud, responsible, money-wise Dirkwallen Bracegirdle was the one to win her hand in marriage.

These days, Kristana was a bold thing with a mind that had survived to become tough and sturdy. She'd already seen her share of domestic hell, and the desperation to take care of her babe brought her to the logical choice of making an illicit deal with this old school-time friend. 

Merry was supposed to go back two days ago; and he would have gone, even if he knew that he wouldn't get so much as a kiss from her. He would have found goods to take her just to find the excuse to sneak through the forest in the middle of the night, whistle quietly in the shadows outside her kitchen window, and watch the smile blossom across her face when she heard it. He spent time sitting and talking with her on the back porch far more often than he went to call on her bed. He wondered if she noticed that.

In fact, for several months, Merry hadn't traveled out of town to get quenched elsewhere even when she turned him away. What the hell was happening?

Merry shook his head finally admitting to himself that that's not why he wanted to see her now. He wanted to sit with her in the grove out behind her house, listening out for Little Mick through the window, and soak up the peace and quiet. He never admitted it to his friends, but Merry already told Kristana his stories. She'd sit and listen to him for hours; let him ramble on sad and angry until he ran out of words, or Little Mick cried out with hunger, whichever came first. 

Other times, Merry would be her shoulder instead—

_That's how it started, _Merry remembered. He was up to Bag End shortly after they'd returned from Gondor and had stopped in on her to say 'hello'. Instead of a happy family, he found her in a blistering state of single motherhood. Creature comforts splintered from her grip for the sake of necessities. And even necessities were being sliced and diced for the sake of recycling and longevity. Kristana had returned to the state of being poor, garishly lacking any rightful Bracegirdle money and support.

He remembered now. He already knew something was wrong the first day back that he stepped up to the small hobbit hole. He could see a piece of the house crumbling away to mudslide into the garden. Spring's grass was trying to solidify the new mold instead of having been repaired immediately. No one came to the door, so he walked curiously around the side of the house mound to the back grove. Wicker baskets of all shapes and sizes littered the yard as if compensated favors were trying to turn into an ad-hoc business. Little Mick was napping in one of them, still hardly a half a year old at the time. A large tin wash bucket sat in the middle of it all, filled with tears, suds, forearms and calluses.  

Kristana's easy smile had turned into a scowl of stress. Deep blue eyes had paled white with worry. Her honey-colored hair was falling out of its fraying ties and stuck to her neck with sweat. If you looked close enough, which Merry eventually did, it was obvious that some of her honey strands had already whitened. He could hardly believe it was her. "Kristana?" 

When her face lifted that day to take in the sight of him, her eyes lit up with hope. He wasn't the one she'd been waiting for, but he was one that had been gone. For a moment of splintering emotional strength and the spinning panic of thoughts, Kristana didn't immediately realize he wasn't Dirkwallen, even though she could recognize Meriadoc plain as day. 

A man came home alive. That's all that mattered for the moment. 

Her eyes lit up with hope, her mouth smiled in a bittersweet happiness, and she shook the suds from her forearms to rush to him with a hug around his midsection. "I was so worried about you."

Uncertain, Merry held her lightly and patted her shoulder. "Um, Kristana? . . .  Where's Dirkwallen?"

Her bittersweet demeanor about Merry's return tumbled into his shoulder with a shuddering voice and squirting tears, as if she hadn't admitted anything of the sort until this very moment. "I don't _know." _

Merry wrapped his arms around her that day sat her down in the backyard. He consoled her and tried to make sense of the events around Dirkwallen's disappearance. Like some older brother or boyfriend's-best-friend, he offered to look after her from time to time with perfectly honorable intentions. 

Dirkwallen was just gone too long.

Merry's leg was moaning anger into his mind and his heart strings tugged with the memory of her beautiful face and bitter tears. Dirkwallen had only gone to Bree for a week's worth of business. In her soul, Kristana knew her husband was dead before Merry came back. When the war-torn hero showed up in her back yard, Dirkwallen had already been gone three months.

It didn't take but a few more months before Merry found himself kissing her, and only a few weeks after that when Kristana had come up with her idea, just to keep it tilted towards survival instead of feeling like pure adultery. It was only meant to happen once. 

And then it was only going to be 'just once more'. . . ..

Next thing he knew, Merry was crashing down an emotional cliff he had no business being on. He went to brothels just to keep his mind in check. He'd get drunk and chase bar wenches, just so he could pretend up front that they were all the same. And then he'd go back to Kristana just so he could sit and sip and hold and talk and laugh and cuddle and comfort and cry for as long as the circumstances could keep his presence a secret.

He wondered if she was in love with him.

Then he wondered if she knew he had always been in love with her.

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**_In The Doghouse_**

Chickens clucked through the round window and roosters crowed in the distance.Merry was in the very same spot in the very same position he'd been in for three days. He was upright in the bed with the sun shining in a circle on his face. He never went to sleep. The exhaustion was draining, and yet the increasing pain sent his mind in a deeper state of grogginess with each day. His eyes were slits, his face was dumbstruck, and his mouth hung open like he was dying. The other three were on the floor in scattered directions, snoring in mismatched keys, face down, face up, half a leg on another's chest…. They looked like they'd been surprised by a storm of arrows and fell dead the ground.

Lauren tiptoed silently to the back room as though she were sneaking into a den of sleeping tigers, armed with nothing more than a tray of very strong tea. She set it down at her feet, not far from where the nearest of them had fallen.

A brown eye tried to pull itself open, a soft mouth stretched with nausea, a painful tear was wiped from an eye, and a hand groped amiss for the leg of any angel that would baby him back to sobriety. 

Lauren dashed back before Pippin's blindly searching hand took a grip on her small ankle. She bumped backward into Bailey. 

 Rose waved the two of them back again. "We'll wait for them in the kitchen while they sleep it off," she said wisely, but she spoke with a velvet voice dressing her iron words. "Meanwhile, I can explain to you what they were phorometically talking about."

Sam's exploded into a snicker, and the snicker immediately stifled because it made his head feel like it was the resting post for the blunt end of an axe. Frodo coughed like he'd just been kicked in the stomach. 

The ladies laughed softly at them as they strolled easily out of the room again.

Reality pounded down on their heads before they were ready for it today. The more they woke up, the more they realized how much each and every one of them was going to be the doghouse. So, one shifted the winds of optimism and let out a quiet little-dog howl, "Owooo…" It made them all chuckle painfully awake and start slithering blindly for the tray of tea. 

In short order, Lauren brought back a bowl of apples and cool glass of milk for Merry's breakfast. The quartet was upright but still half asleep. Pippin's face was ducked, but angled over to get a glance of how Merry was feeling.

Merry grinned sleepily at her offering, but fingers came up to the side of the bowl and pushed the whole thing away. He swallowed dryly and whispered, "Take the splint off." 

Lauren pealed back the blanket and winced at the color. The swelling had pushed up through the spaces in the splint as though the thing was keeping his leg from exploding like a sausage in a spitting fire.

 Lauren stood to set aside the apples and milk with an open mouth and a nervous nod. Bailey stepped up to take a look. Rose muttered from the tree an order to Lauren which instruments needed to be fetched. 

Pippin's eyes were open on Merry, even if Merry didn't see him. He sat up straight when he took in the color of the leg, then started climbing to his feet when he saw the bowl of apples that had been turned down. "Bailey wait." Pippin stopped her with a deep command. "Get the doctor. I'll get the splint off."

Lauren glanced back. Frodo started to come to his feet with stiff concern.

Pippin stepped up to the leg and looked back at Bailey. He was so scared, he was angry. "Go. _Now_." 

Bailey hurried off. Lauren scrambled to fetch the tools. Rose move Elanor out of the room and kept her quiet elsewhere.

Frodo's eyes widened at the leg. He shuffled quickly to fetch a sharp knife. Sam kept his palm sideways on his forehead as if to keep his brains from falling out. He winced at bed and his headache got worse.

Merry's leg was the color and shape of an elongated eggplant growing out of its crate. It was so unnaturally warm that heat radiated from it. The discoloration barely stopped beneath his hip. His toes were swollen together to form a single, blackening mass. There was no smell of gangrene yet, but it was certain to set in by lunch time if they didn't turn this around _right now_.

No one had touched him, and no one had noticed that until Pippin came at a cotton strap with the knife. As soon as he touched the cotton, hardly close to the leg, Merry gritted his teeth with a grunt.

Pippin pulled back with surprise. The pressure on Merry's leg was so intense that any slight touch sent screaming pain to echo throughout his body. 

Frodo scrambled quickly for a wooden spoon and put it in Merry's mouth. Sam brought in a bucket of cool water and a bunch of wet rags. He wiped Merry's face with one. Merry closed his eyes to the cool, clean clothe and shoved the handle so far against his face that it was his molars that chomped on it. Sam stepped back to assist Pippin. Frodo grabbed both of Merry's hands with strong arms and Merry blindly held them just as tightly. 

All settled wordlessly into place. Merry took a deep breath and nodded.

Pippin tried to do it gently and quickly at the same time, but Merry gritted out a growl anyway. His face turned red, making Pippin cringe that much more at what he had to do. Frodo held on tight to keep Merry's hands. Sam took every piece of splint Pippin had cut free and helped it fall away from Merry's leg without touching him directly. Pieces of wood rattled loudly on the floor behind him and slivers of stretched cloth fell to his feet.

Merry started to settle as soon as the last wrap was cut and he breathed easier the more of the splint was removed from his leg. Soon, he pushed the spoon handle from his mouth and let it fall to his chest. He let Frodo's hands go. He breathed long, deep and quaky.

Sam was still rushing to drape cool, wet rags over Merry's leg from toes to hip. Pippin reached over to cover his left leg and keep it warm, but his right leg stayed in the air so that the blanket wouldn't put more weight on it than necessary. By the time they ran out of things to do to help him, Merry's eyes were closed again, and fluttered open only occasionally time to time to nod with appreciation and relief.

The leg wasn't getting better. It was nearly beyond the Doctor's power to fix. Sam sat at the end of the bed. His shoulders curled over like a hunchback. Pippin pulled up the stool and straddled it. He stared at the leg with slanted brows. Frodo remained where he was, brought up a knee for his elbow, and dropped his forehead into his palm. Meriadoc was at risk of losing his leg entirely, but no one had to say that out loud.

Merry took it better than anyone. He grumbled out a grin, "Orcs, Trolls, Uruk Hai, Wraiths, Horses, trebuchet's, Oliphants and assholes. . .  and I go gimp from a _fucking farming accident!_"

Frodo flashed a smile. Sam dropped his head and covered his mouth. Pippin snickered but only enough make him sniff hard and take in an open mouth of air.

They heard people coming through the front door and quickly pushed away their emotions. Even Merry blinked alive again, shifted the pillows so he could sit up a little more, and yanked the blanket to shield his manly section from female eyes. They were quiet and stiff, and they still carried the loudest of headaches, but alertly listened, aided and ordered so that the Doctor could have every possible opportunity to save the day.

But the Doctor was no more of a miracle worker than anyone else. He suggested the most morbid of plans. He gave a few notes on how to keep Merry comfortable for two days, and then promised to hurry back with a sufficient number of leeches for a quick bleed. If the leeches didn't work, the leg would have to be sawed off.

The Doctor left the four of them to wallow in the eeriest of silence.

Merry tilted his head and looked at Pippin. The wounded man's eyes were red and pained that he looked like he'd been scrubbed against a washing board. He begged Pippin with a whisper, "I want to see her."

Pippin closed his mouth and closed his eyes. 

Sam already looked concerned. "See who?" 

Pippin opened his eyes again just to look at Frodo and Sam.

"Not _Anna_," Frodo said with regret, looking to Pippin's struck expression for confirmation. "It's Kristana."

Sam curled his lip, his brow twitched, then his mouth opened. 

Pippin folded his lips stiffly closed.

If the news got out, there was sure to be a Shire-Sized argument, as sure as the sky was blue. There was going to be a crowd brewing outside Bag End to do the name calling, hisses and insults. Merry's name would be dragged through the mud until every last Brandybuck was insulted enough to stick their noses in it, or angry enough at Merry for bringing it on. Frodo had walked on water up to now, but after the indecent relationship with his housemaid the sewing circle was now advertising, his grace was running too thin to harbor a gang of immoral scoundrels without repercussions. Sam knew which way his mother-in-law was going to go, and though Rose would stand by his decision come hell or high-water, they would be pressured to pack up and move out of Bag End to make a real living somewhere else.

Pippin was going to have to make a very big decision. If Pippin stood by Merry, Bailey's parents were sure to launch a counter attack on Pippin too. It wasn't too late for Liam Bracegirdle to rescind his blessing because he hadn't entirely given it yet. And Pippin recognized the risk that he might lose Bailey entirely over this.

But if Pippin stood by Bailey just because her parents couldn't accept that their son had died and left a widow in need of care, he'd watch Merry stand against a Hall of Bracegirdles, and half a Shire that agreed with them, suffering through the shame alone with a broken or missing leg. One choice envisions losing Meriadoc forever; the other choice involved losing Bailey. Both visions stung him to the core.

He curled back his shoulders, lifted his chin, and frowned. "I'll go get her."

Pippin shook his hand. Sam patted his shoulder. Frodo mussed up his hair. Then all three of them tucked in with determination and set out what they needed to do. Even if the team had to disband entirely so they could save their asses, they would still be a team until they were six feet under. No one had to say that aloud either.

~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~-- ~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~

**_Summer Storms_**

"He did _what?_!" Rose snapped, rising from the living room chair. 

Sam was sitting too, but he didn't get up. He sighed hard through his nose.

"Kristana's married!" She yelled, "What the hell was he thinking!?"

Sam turned to fight her off, "He's in love with her! He wouldn't be doing this if he weren't."

"How long has this been going on?"

"That's not our business," he pointed out. "But Merry's in for the fight of his life and he can't even do it standing up." He looked her in the eyes. "He needs us."

Rose's eyes widened and her head shook fast and crazy. "Sam, I'm seven months pregnant."

"I know."

She pointed hard out to the direction of Bag End. "Frodo doesn't have enough to feed us for three months."

"_I know_!"

"There is a big hole in the middle of our one and only crop field this season."

**_"I know," _**he growled.****His eyes flared. His face was red. His big shoulders heaved with tension as he faced her down. 

She hissed at him anyway, "Sam, no one is going to hire you if you stand guard to save a debauchery."

Sam swallowed hard and finally whispered, "I know."

Rose calmed down too, taking in the expression in his eyes. "I didn't know you and Meriadoc were that close."

Sam shrugged a little. "We don't ranking each other like that." 

Rose slowly sat back down in the chair beside her. Her back was straight and her chin was bowed. 

"He'd do the same for us," Sam said.

Rose shook her head, "I think you should go spend the day up there."

Sam turned his face away. 

She closed her eyes. "You reek of that nasty leaf and making me sick. You still have a hangover; I can see it in your shoulders. Go do whatever it is you do up there, Sam, but I have to warm up to this one. Let me stay out of it for a bit longer."

Sam swallowed and nodded silently. She left the room and he retrieved a change of clothes to carry back up the Hill. It was best not to face Rose again until he was bathed and changed.

~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~-- ~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~

**_Winter Freezes_**

Pippin pulled Bailey away from Bag End and half way down the front slope, below the road, to fall to his butt in the grass.

 "You've got a hangover, don't you?" She almost grinned about that, but it shifted. "Is he going to be all right?" 

"The doctor's going to be back in a few days with the leeches. We'll know then." Pippin couldn't bring himself to look her in the eye. She was in pink again, like a little cherry blossom waiting to be plucked. He could already feel it in his soul how much he would miss her. He dived into her arms before she had the chance to develop some insulting expression about it. 

Pippin rolled them both onto the ground. One knee hooked her leg, one arm wrapped around the front of her waist and up the other side. He tucked his face against her shoulder and held his breath. Had he opened his eyes he would have found the swell of a breast within reach of his mouth, but his mouth was pressed, his brows were laden with insecurity. "I love you."

Bailey smiled a little, though Pippin never saw that. "I love you too, Pip," she said easily. One arm held him around his arm, the other hugged his head. Her fingers combed the curls from his eyes. She held him like that for a full minute, and Pippin soaked it up as long as it lasted. She pulled in a deep fresh sigh through her nose, "I can't wait until we-"

Her fingers stopped. His eyelids rippled. She deliberately smelled his hair again.

His arms tightened around her already trying to keep her from getting away and Bailey started pushing him away so she could sit up alone. Sky blue eyes turned to him with rancor.

Grey eyes saddened and shifted away. "Merry was in pain-" 

"But you weren't."

He flicked his sights down before they filled with guilt too.

Bailey's pushed herself to a stand up on the front slope and put her hands on her hips. She gazed over the fallowed sheep pasture where there was, once upon a time, a grandiose birthday party. "Do us a favor next time and take a bath before you try to cuddle in so I don't have to smell it."

Pippin plucked a purple wildflower from the grass and fiddled with it in his fingers. "Do you believe in standing by your husband?"

Bailey shifted on her feet and looked back to him. He was still a splotch on a bright green patch of grass. "Of course I do."

He grinned a little, "Even if only in practice?" He squinted up at her again and the sunshiny mid morning behind her. "Would you stand by me just as much before we married?"

She crossed her arms at her bodice and smiled down at him. "What did you do?"

"I did nothing wrong," he said bold and proud. He pressed his mouth as he looked at her. "Answer me."

Bailey turned completely. Her skirts shuffled against the high grass. Concern struck her brow. "What's going on?"

"I can't tell you yet." He swallowed hard, then pushed himself to a stand. Nervously, he rested his hands on her elbows. "I just found out myself." He tried to look her seriously in the eyes, but was strongly unaccustomed to doing it. "But I want you to stand by me like I was your husband."

The subject made Bailey smile gently. It charmed her just that he would request it. "You know I will."

He shook his head. She wasn't getting how seriously he meant. "I mean, stand by me even if I stand against your father."

Bailey curled her lip like he'd already missed a big part of the equation. "But you'll never get his full permission."

Pippin flinched.

"Whatever it is, I'm sure you and Dad can get along about it. At least, you can keep it to yourself until you get my dowry out of him, can't you?"

Pippin pulled his hands away from her and took another step back. He was surprised she didn't know this – or that he didn't know this. "What dowry? You don't have a dowry."

Bailey seemed certain she did, but cringed about revealing that to the fiancé to whom it was never offered. 

Pippin blinked and shook that one from his head. "I don't need your father's damn money."

She took a step backward. "What? I can't move to Tookbank! What if you never get the house? What'll we live on?"

Pippin's eyes narrowed into hers. He motioned to his own chest, trying hard not to be offended. "Don't you have any faith in me?"

The question struck her to realize how serious the conversation was, as if she had though to this point that it was all hypothetical. Now she was faced with the real question for the first time. She'd never considered not having Dad, and therefore never considered whether or not she could put her future entirely in Pippin's hands.

Now that she thought of it, Bailey was shy to answer the question.

Pippin read it out of her eyes anyway. He took yet another step back and stood taller. "I see." He shrugged bitterly and started to turn. "So much for standing by your husband; there's a few hidden preconditions you failed to specify."

"It's not like that," she winced. "You're being unreasonable. A girl has to have some security—"

"_I love you!"_ He shot angrily at her. "That should be all you need." 

"_Well, it isn't_!" She shot back violently. 

They're eyes drilled into each other. The air fell still around their ears. They stood staring painfully at each other for a full minute. Bailey was tearing up, but not wielding, and Pippin finally blinked. 

"Well then," he said simply, swallowed hard, and dropped his eyes away. "I suppose you don't have anything to stand by to begin with, do you?"

Bailey shook her head, "No, Pip. That's not what I meant." She sighed and tried to rub the wrinkle out of her eyebrow. "Look, you've got a hangover. Let's talk about this later."

Pippin shook his head. "No." He strolled easily towards the upside of the hill, partially encircling her from a half a dozen feet away. "You can't live on fun and games, right?"

The air went brittle between them. When he looked her in the eyes again, Bailey met a new expression on Pippin's face. "I drink too much because I have to drink off all that _fun_ I have. We were out in the mud all day yesterday just to have load so _fun_. And all that time you were batting your eyes at River Bolgers I was on my way to Gondor and back having nothing but **_fun_**, wasn't I?"

She shook her head, trying to speak--

"But rest assured, Bailey, you're the only game in town," he hissed. "I'm tired of playing." He flicked his hand in the air at her. "Go home."

Pippin was too angry to wait for a reaction, but he could hear her crying as he stomped back up the hill to Bag End. 

~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~-- ~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~

**_Spring Can't Thaw_**

Pippin knocked on the front door of Bag End. Lauren unlocked and peaked before she opened it. The woman slipped in quickly with a little boy on her hip. Her eyes reeked of worry. Frodo motioned them in. Pippin stepped in behind her and locked the door. 

Lauren held her arms out with an offer to take the baby. Even though she and Kristana had never met, they now shared the deepest of secrets. 

Kristana's rich blue eyes exchanged uncomfortable glances with Lauren and Frodo. She handed over Little Mick and let Pippin take the cape from her shoulders. Her honey colored hair was tied up behind her head, leaving an occasional curl to bounce at the back of her neck and shoulders. She brushed out the folds of her old calico dress and smoothed the bodice nervously at her stomach.

Pippin folded the cape over his forearms. He stared at the floor. "He's in the back room."Frodo nodded assurances that everyone here was okay. He flicked his head for her to go on back.

Kristana rubbed her lips together. Her arms were strong at her sides, away from the rest of her body. Her chiseled chin was tucked like she was ready to get into fisticuffs with somebody. She stepped into the back room to see him and stopped at the tree.

Merry's eyes were full of wonder that she'd really come. He tucked an arm behind his head until the elbow was sticking up into the air, and grinned sleepily at her. "Hallo, Blueberry."

Kristana stepped quickly to his bedside and forced herself into motherhood mode. She lifted the blanket and took in clues about the medical state of his broken body. "You had to go and break your damned leg."

Merry's eyes glowed to watch her stumble through the vast ambivalence she was suffering. 

"You're wraps have warmed." She pealed off the wet rags that were meant to help the swelling go down. She sniffed, then flipped over the blanket from his torso to check the hip. Aside from a borrowed shirt from Frodo, Merry was as naked as the day he was born. She didn't flinch. She only checked where the purple stopped and that his hip wasn't swollen. "Why don't you have a splint?" She whipped the blanket back him and tucked him in again.

"I'm all right, Kristana," he assured.

She looked him in the eyes, "What did the doctor say?"

"He's fetching a bucket of leeches."

Kristana stopped. Her arched brows angled with concern. She sat slowly on his bedside, took this in with a slow, controlled breath, and then looked at him again. Her prominent cheekbones had a way of making her look intense when she studied him. "Why did you send for me?"

Merry's eyes leered at her just as intently. "Why do you think?"

She tightened her teeth despite the fondness in her eyes and moved to his bedside so she could sit down and look at him in the face. "This is a bad idea."

Meriadoc lifted his chin with propriety. "I am truly sorry about your husband's death."

Her expression shifted. "I know."

He sat up a little more, lifted himself away from his backrest, and shifted as forward as he could manage. "But he's dead."

She nodded with the fading bitterness on her mouth. "I know what you're trying to do—"

"You're a widow, Blueberry. You have to admit that."

"I do." She pointed out easily. "But it does not matter that I do. It matters that my in-laws do not. And you know that."

"They were Pippin's in-laws too."Merry pressed his mouth. "It seems I have put him in the very spot I tried so hard to avoid."

"And what of the spot you're putting me in?"

"I found you in a worse spot than this."

Kristana lowered her eyes. "That's not the point."

"I'm tired of having to hide in the shadows. I want to care for you in the daylight where I can still see the smile in your blueberry eyes."

Aforementioned eyes snuck up to smile at him with all his smooth talk, and how effective it still was after so much cold experience and hard decisions.

He had asked the question before, and he was going to continue to ask until he was awarded an answer. "Have you ever sold your services to anyone other than myself?"

She faced him down. "Does it matter?"

"To me?" He widened his eyes and told her with intense honesty, "Not a damn bit."

"Then why do you ask me?"

"Because it matters to you." He looked at her face even if she wasn't looking back. "You're not a prostitute. You never were."

"And how would you know that?" Her eyes narrowed at him. "Have you ever purchased anyone else?"

"Yep." Merry's harsh truth was lodged in his eyes. "And it still doesn't matter."

Her chin dropped. "You're an ass."

"Yeah, I know." Merry held himself to sit up with fists in the mattress beside him. "You don't want me to think you a true harlot so the answer in your chin is 'no'. But you don't want me to think you're falling for me either so the answer in your eyes is 'yes'."

She started looking vulnerable and angry.

He wasn't phased by it, "I'm not going anywhere. Even if, by some chance of pure making sure you have everything you need."

Her eyes shifted wantonly, desperately trying to change the subject. "Everything?"

Merry grinned and shifted his chin, "Don't tempt me, luv, my leg is really very broken."

Reality struck her across the face. Her eyes dropped to her lap. "Leeches. . . ." she echoed, and started to realize what that meant. Cherry lips opened with a gut wrenching reality. Her eyes turned to him to realize that she could lose Merry too.

Merry studied the side of her face. "I know I'm second best, Kristana. But for you, I'll take it." He shook his head and muttered the plea into her ear. "If I ever get out of this bed, I'm coming for you."

She would have laughed at this insanity if it weren't so damned terrifying. "What exactly do you intend to do?" 

His eyes shifted to the floor. He hadn't quite thought that far ahead.

"There is no chance Liam Bracegirdle is going to let me keep Dirkwallen's house. Even more so, he's not going to let his grandson move into Brandybuck Hall." She flicked her eyes at him with insolence. "You're good in bed, Merry, but hardly worth sacrificing my baby son over."

He angled his head the other way, "Come on, now. I never asked you to sacrifice him and I never would. I'm as attached to Mick as I am to you."

"You're not his father."

"He's never _met_ his father," Merry snapped.

Her eyes shifted to him boldly. Merry was leaping over a line he'd never before crossed.

"I accept that you married him first, Kristana. You are in love with him and likely always will be. _I will never forget that_. But for whatever reason you want to blame, Dirkwallen isn't doing his duty. You need to be taken care of. You need food and clothes, help raising Mick, a house that's not falling down, a man who can-" his words tumbled to a stop only to stare into the air in front of his nose and heave with surprise. 

Kristana shook her head at him like he had gone insane, "What in hell did you _drink_ last night?"

Merry grinned at her comment, sat up, and sighed himself back to normal. "It was accompanied by a bit of the green."

She nodded, "It must have blossomed from a cowcake, Merry, because you're talking like your brain's in backwards." She closed her eyes and rubbed a pale eyebrow. "You've gone off the deep end."

"I'm jealous," he admitted casually.

A high eyebrow arched even more. "Of what?"

"Pippin," Merry grinned and straightened the blanket over his hip. "Sam, Frodo. What they've got. What they're about to have."

Her expression pulled in when she realized what he was talking about.

His eyes flicked back to hers. "We're not kids anymore," he whispered. 

Kristana shook her head and lowered her voice, "You guys were no longer kids when you got back."

His eyes turned down again, but he nodded about it. "I can even tell you the _day_ I grew up. The very moment I felt the joy of life drain away." He looked up-

"The day Boromir died," she told him.

Merry closed his mouth abruptly. But then it blossomed into a smile as he realized just how well she knew him already. He settled back at his 45 degree angle and looked at her over his nose. "Do you love me?"

Kristana's mouth drew small and stiff, and though she wasn't looking at him, her blue eyes sparkled. "I refuse to answer that question on account of professional courtesy."

"Fuck that." Merry had a twinkle in his eye. "Do you love me or not."

Her face burst into a flushed smile. "Watch your language!"  
"What? I'm not permitted to say it unless we're tangled?"

"No, your not." She insisted with a grin. 

Merry pushed himself to sit up again and used his fists to make himself lean as forward as possible. It hurt terribly, but not enough to distract him from the goal. He hovered over her shoulder and lowered his voice. "You didn't answer the question."

A single eye turned his way, "What does it matter, Merry?"

"I supposed it doesn't." He grinned as much as his strength would let him. "Whatever your answer, I'm getting out of this be and I'm coming after you."

Blueberry eyes shifted sideways to look at him. Her voice was barely a whisper. "Don't make me do this. My parents are gone; I won't have anywhere to go. And even though he's clearly Dirkwallen's, they'll call Mick a bastard anyway. They'll shun him out of his Bracegirdle bloodline. And I will go down in West Farthing history as a cuckolding whore."

Merry shrugged. "So we won't live in West Farthing."

Kristana was almost snagged by it. She forced herself to keep her wits about her. "It doesn't matter whether I love you or not." She whispered painfully and began to shake her head. "I gave vows, Merry."

"It's time I started playing by the rules," he said simply. "Either I'm coming in the daytime or I'm not coming at all."

She rose slowly to her feet, but she didn't look at his eyes when she moved closer to him. Merry could feel what she was doing and his face started to show the pain. She reached down and gave him a tensely tender kiss on the forehead. 

Kristana's eyes were water and her jaw was tight. "I will miss you." 

Kristana forced her back to him and walked out of the room as tense as a ball of twine. His eyes slowly closed and the heals of his palms pushed fresh tears from both corners. 

~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~-- ~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~

**_Autumn Can't Stay_**

 "All I know is that he told me not to make anymore blueberry pies for him." Lauren squinted into the sunshine and the bright reflections off the pond. The summer sun beat down on them, and she seemed to be the only one that noticed how hot the stones got against her tender bare feet. "The man deserves the right to deal with his woman on his own." 

Frodo carried a large, tapestry bag over his shoulder as if he was Santa Claus and watched his feet as he thought on this. "I'm sure he appreciates your effort, Lauren, but this one's too big for him to suffer alone."

Lauren bumped shoulder into shoulder and grinned, "Well, then, you and the gents do what you need to do. I'm the new kid in the alley. I'm not making any bold moves until I've earned some tenure."

They were near to the bottom of the bridge again when Frodo's face lifted with a smile. "_You_? No bold moves? I seem to recall falling victim to one or two of them."

Her face flushed and she looked back over the bridge just to keep from looking at him. "A victim was the _last_ thing you were."

As they talked and teased each other, Lauren started lifting her feet one at a time so they could cool in the air. Soon, she talked him into carrying her off the bridge and into the nearest cool grass. 

His eyes lit up with fun. He gave her the tapestry bag to carry on her shoulder instead and let her crawl onto his back. She held her body against his back with one full arm across the front of his shoulders and he pulled her knees around his hips with a smile. He stepped out quickly and dipped around pedestrians, carts and pigs. They were laughing out loud by the time they reached the grass a hundred feet away, and Frodo deliberately rolled both of them and the tapestry bag clumsily into the grass for a soft landing.

The playfulness was fun sight to see, and not uncommon in town, but that it was Frodo and his Mysterious Guest made a few more eyes than usual glance over at the mirth in the grass. 

Otho chewed thoughtfully on his pipe as he leered at it from the pub. He glanced at Liam. 

Liam looked over at a visiting Mankin. "That's them over there."

Frodo climbed to his feet and offered a hand to help her up. He picked up the bag while she straightened out her butter yellow dress. They were on a mission with that tapestry bag, but were still tucked in close with flirtatious mutters as they walked into the town common. They stopped at Velma's table and smiled a greeting at the aging woman. 

Frodo complained lightly to Lauren when they started unloading the bag. "Why is it you never bake _me_ a pie? I'd like a pie."

"What kind of pie would you like me to bake?" Lauren offered.

Frodo set out a pair of silver plated candlestick holders in front of Velma. Velma did look at them, but Frodo didn't notice. Instead, he looked Lauren in the eye as he thought about it, and twinkled at her as he answered. "Cherry."

The bridge of her nose wrinkled to laugh---

"Maela!"

Time stopped ticking somewhere between giggling at him and turning in response to her name.

The town common slowed to a bated breath. Frodo's mouth opened, but his lungs wouldn't breath. His pulse thudded in his ears. His skin prickled with heat.

A Man marched to them with a chiseled stare, looking at her with confusion, with insult and questions and fears that what he suspected was true. He was a short for Man, but still a foot taller than a hobbit. He was in simple, black and white clothes. He had a baked-biscuit color to his skin, flat, raven-colored hair, almond shaped eyes... strong identifiers that were only accents on Lauren.

She turned around to look at Frodo with an expression as if she'd been shot in the chest with an arrow, like it was the last time, the last chance, the last moment she could be his Lauren. Her expression was struck with regret, and the clear wish she could have reversed time just a few minutes and change its direction.

 Frodo started shaking his head in a hopeless plea.

"Maela Orin!" The man shouted deep and loud, disciplining her for turning away from him.

Lauren's eyes begged forgiveness from Frodo. Her eyes filled with tears.

The man grabbed her by the arm as soon as she was in reach and whipped her to turn around. He flicked a glare down to Frodo and pressed his thin lips together to leer at her. "I've been looking for you for months. I thought you'd gotten lost." 

"Han," she whispered to beg his mercy. She winced painfully that she knew his name.

Han took a step back. "Perhaps you _ran_ away."

Lauren shook her head. "No. I don't remember."

The bag dribbled from Frodo's hands. He took a wavering step backwards. 

Otho lumbered over with Liam not far from his heals. "Mister Orin? I see you found her. Good." He winked at Frodo on his way over and gave a serious expression to the yellow-tinted couple. 

Liam chimed in officially. "You're wife has been serving as Frodo Bagginses housemaid these last six months, though I've heard tell a story or two."

Han Orin's face bobbed up at that statement. He glared at Frodo and he glared at Liam for bringing it up in public. His voice was stiff to Liam, "You honor me with your hospitality Mister Bracegirdle, but I request you step away from my private affairs."

Liam flapped up his hands and took a step back. Otho smiled missing teeth at Frodo.

Han tucked in to try to look at her. "They said you lost your memory. Do you know who I am?"

Lauren stared wide eyed at his boot covered feet. A giant tear fell off her eyelashes and dripped directly to the dust below. Her voice was tiny. "Yes."

Frodo's wide open eyes watched them and empathically soaked up everything he hated to know. His face flushed with heat. His stomach flipped upside down. His heart balled into a knot and tried to escape through his throat.

Han stared him in the eyes. "I'll visit in on you at a later time." His hand squeezed around Lauren's upper arm and pushed her to turn her back on her keeper. 

Lauren's head turned as much as it could to look over her shoulder to him. Her eyes pleaded for Frodo.

Han shoved her harder. She whipped into place and followed where her arms was dragged. Otho laughed with sick pleasure. Frodo watched Lauren being hauled away by an angry husband through the town common.

Otho took the pipe from his mouth to say it loud and clear for everyone to hear, sharing a complaint as if they were around a table at the pub. "You get comfy with something that you've rightfully inherited and some ungrateful bastard comes to take it away from you. Now doesn't that justcurdle your milk?"

Frodo's shoulder started to hurt. His face crumbled with noxious wrath.

Han yanked her indoors of the pub.

"And Bailey's up in arms about breaking it off with Pippin too." Liam commented. "It's going to be a dramatic supper tonight."

Frodo turned his back to the old man and possessive father just to get a grip on what just happened. They took her. They took her and they took Bailey. And if they found out, they would take Kristana too. . . .

"You just needed to talk some sense in to her," Otho said loudly, just to rub it in. "Just like Lauren is about to have some sense _knocked_ into her-"

**_CRACK!_**

Otho's mouth was bleeding before he knew Frodo was winding up for the punch. He fell into Liam and reached for his jaw.

Liam shoved Otho aside and spat at Frodo. "What the hell is the matter with you!?"

Frodo's fist was still swinging one way, so he just swung it back the other. He got Liam hard across the temple. **_WHAP!_**

Liam stumbled into Otho, but the two were so roundy that if they fell they would have rolled. Frodo took a single stomp to them and threw a wad of spit on the pair. Then he turned and stomped swiftly away.

"Frodo Baggins!" Otho growled. "You'll not shun me!"

"You come back here!" Liam demanded.

His feet started moving. He walked uneasily out of the town common and his feet sped up over the bridge. Some girl asked him if he was all right. He shook off her hand and fell into a trot to get across the river. 

There was little conversation in Bag End that night, but there was a lot of drinking. Sam sulked about Rosie's truths – she was too right about too many things. Pippin's face was permanently etched, as angry at himself as he was at Bailey. Merry blank stare at the air illustrated how hollow he felt. Frodo just sat in the corner, hugged a bottle, and cried.

They were supposed to lean on each other, but they were unnaturally detached. It felt like a lead weight in the stomach that they'd already betrayed the other three. Souls stung sharply. Teeth gritted and faces winced. Liquor didn't numb it. Leaf only made them sick. And there was a yawning sinkhole in their hearts where the ladies had been.

Frodo sat up with anger in his mouth and sarcasm in his voice. "I think I liked it better in Mordor."

Sam turned away from him. His face crumbled to tears, but his eyes were too dry to produce any. The money was gone, and all hope of recovering had sunk. It felt like Frodo was getting ready to abandon him again, but this time Sam had to cut himself loose before even Frodo was ready to make the decision.

"Let's go back to Mordor," Frodo said strongly as though he were suggesting a vacation on the coast. He sniffed hard. "Who's with me?"

Pippin's legs were folded in front of him. He set his elbows on his knees and dug both sets of fingers into the hair at his temples. He may as well go back to Mordor. Life without Bailey wasn't going to feel much different -- just a big empty stretch of time where life never managed to happen. His squeezed his eyes closed and started shuddering.

"I'm with you, Frodo." Merry said distantly. His fingers reached blindly down the red/purple skin on his thigh, wanting so badly to scratch at the array of leeches now sucking the blood from his body. His eyes were open to nothing in front of him. "But I think I'm going to beat you there. . . . "

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	5. Part 5 Life Goes On Anyway

**_Liquor Leaf and Ladies - Kesselia Banta_**

**Part 5 – Life Goes On Anyway**

_"All you have to decide is what to do with the time that's given to you" _.... Gandalf

**_Midi-evil Medicine_**

**_In Comes the Cavalry_**

**_The New Man of the Family_**

**_Was It Wrong?_**

**_Dogs and their True Counterparts_**

**_Bag End Hall_**

**_Life Goes On_**

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**_Midi-evil Medicine_**

Leaches don't appreciate being removed from a juicy meal. They left yellowing hickeys and small maroon smears all over Merry's darkly bruised leg, and they wriggled in complaint as they were dropped unceremoniously into a tin bucket. No one told them that a pint of Hobbit juice it would be their last supper, for they were certain to have sucked out only the "bad blood" and therefore were burned alive within minutes of rash separation.

The result was a fat leg that appeared to have been experimented on by aliens and the noxious smell of fresh-roasted flesh. This foul experience was given no attention by any hobbit present. All mouths were stiff and brows were angled at how completely the leeches failed to produce the desired result. Two of them silently cleaned off a dining table and moved it out to the junk side of the Hill so the flies would collect far from anyone's kitchen. A third stayed with the crying and cursing patient that vocally clambered for other options. A giant butcher knife was sharpened, a wide leather belt strap was brought out to cut off circulation, and the appearance of a strangely-shaped bone saw punctuated an already gut-wrenching sense of doom.

Merry was carried out to the table by a thick blanket in use as a stretcher. The doctor's wife assisted the production with tight-throated orders to his friends. Chirping birds fluttered away from the sick aura. Tools, towels and supplies were fetched. Merry hips, chest and good leg were tied down firmly to the table. The doctor frowned at Pippin's pained expression and decided to let the quartet have a few minutes first. He and his wife stepped into the house. 

Pippin turned to Meriadoc. He swallowed hard. "You want some whiskey?"

Merry's eyes were closed. His mouth frowned with disappointment. He shook his head. 

Pippin straddled the single bench next to the table and took Merry's palm with a hard squeeze. He fretted a little, trying to think of something funny to say or words of comfort. He too closed his eyes and swallowed another dry throat.

"Least now you'll be taller than me," Merry muttered, trying to grin. Pippin was taller than him anyway.

"You can still stand as tall on one leg," Pippin answered as lightly as he could. "You'll just need me to balance you up like always." He looked Merry in the eyes and tried to smile. "It'll be no different than most nights coming out of a pub."

Merry gave him a weary smile. "Only if I live, Pip." 

What little smile there was in Pippin's eyes had now vanished. "You have to live. What am I gonna do without you?"

Merry squeezed the other's palm. Somehow, it was easier comforting Pippin about this. Despite the years and mileage, Pippin would always be the baby. "Promise me somethin'."

Pippin lifted his gaze again.

"Get Bailey back. You'll need her."

"Don't talk like that." Pippin dropped his eyes just as quickly and shook his head. "You tell me your last requests some other time."

Merry squeezed his palm again. "Pip?"

Pippin lifted his face again and sniffed hard. He hated to, but gave acknowledgement to Merry's instruction. After that, Pippin could only stare at the air with stunned eyes and slack mouth. 

Frodo and Sam were hardly four feet away from them both, but Frodo just now lifted his chin to join the conversation. "Should I get Kristana?"

Merry stared in the air as he shook his head. "I wouldn't let her if she asked." Even if she was willing to come, she would be seen, the interaction would be witnessed, and everyone would know. 

Sam angled his head to see around Frodo, "Some things are worth spilling secrets over."

"No," Merry whispered, wished passionately that he could have, and shook his head again. "No."

Pippin's pale eyes stared back at Meriadoc's for one long hard moment of intense communication. 

Pippin tried to breathe and Meriadoc bravely raised his chin. "Tell him I'm ready."

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**_In Comes the Cavalry_**

Sam retrieved the doctor from the houseby simply calling for him from the back door. He was already outside again when the elder man stepped out with a smile of wonder and Frodo's sword that he'd taken off the wall. "Is this it? Is the famous sword that glows blue when orcs are close?"

Frodo mouth wrinkled at the doctor's poor taste. He held his hand out for the sword. "Would you mind focusing your attentions on saving my friend's life?"

The doctor handed over the sword to Frodo, "Oh yes, of course," and skedaddled back around the house to the picnic-style operating table. 

He started the deed by strapping up the leather belt high on his fat thigh. Merry stopped the movement with a harsh order to get his right testicle out from under the strap before it was squashed like a red grape. Pippin moved to stand behind him and set the pock-marked wooden spoon handle back in his mouth. Frodo took one forearm and held it hard to keep next to his shoulder. Pippin took the other. Sam handed over the steal slack-wench and winced so hard that one eye went shut. The doctor strapped up the leg and the wench and paused to make sure everyone was ready before he started cranking down the tourniquet. . . .

"Wait!" She screamed from the other side of the hill and far down the road. "Merry!" Her voice was pushed so loud and so harsh that it curdled on her throat. "Stop!"  
Merry opened his eyes with knitted brows. Pippin lifted his head to listen. Sam reached over to remove the Doctor's hand from the wench handle. 

Frodo pulled his shoulders back. "That's Lauren's voice."

"She shouldn't see this," Sam uttered quietly. This scene was no place for a woman, the doctor's wife being a rare exception.

Frodo let go of Merry and skipped into a fast trot over the top of Bag End. He dodged shrubbery and blueberry bushes to climb to its easy summit and looked out to the road beyond. Her hands gathered her green skirts to her waist so she could run full tilt up the road, kicking up clouds of dust with her bare feet and letting the wildly dancing hair knot in the air behind her. "Frodo! Merry!? Stop!"

"Lauren!" Frodo called her attention and waved a arm so she would see him. "You can't come back here!"

She was heaving for air. Her eyes widened when she saw him, but continued to run to his front porch. "Don't take Merry's leg! There's a-" she heaved.

Frodo was full of conflicting emotions that she was here during such a horrid event. He felt the sick feeling that she was going to make this worse. Nothing else could have been done to save the leg, and it was prudent to get the dread of the amputation over with. There was no idea Lauren could have produced to change that. 

"Rose sent me-" she heaved again. 

He looked over the shrubs and down the hill at her. She held her chest on his front porch, looking flushed and pumping with adrenaline. "Lauren, you shouldn't be here."

"Wait. They haven't taken his leg yet, have they?"

Frodo glanced back. The doctor had taken a long step away from Merry, Sam kept guard on that wench, yet looked over his shoulder with a stiff mouth to Frodo and wondering what the hold up was. Merry closed his eyes again and squeezed them shut. Pippin simply glared up at him. 

They could hear everything. The stupid woman was going to drag this painful day out, wasn't she?

Frodo looked down at her. "No. Why?"

"There's a man come to town." She heaved, but a little softer now. "Rose is bringing him in. Kristana and Bailey are on their way." She heaved again.

Frodo closed his eyes and shook his head. "You ladies can't be here for this."

Lauren waved a hand at him. "No, Frodo, you don't understand. There's a man come to town. I forgot his name." She heaved again, but smiled for that one. "Tall as a house, long white hair, starts with a G."

From behind the wooden spoon, Merry exclaimed the name. Frodo managed to verify it, "Gandalf?"

Lauren nodded, smiled and blew out controlled air. "That's the one. He's coming."

Frodo didn't listen to her. He turned and skidded down the hill again. "Gandalf is here!" Merry dropped his head back to the pillow and sputtered the spoon from his mouth. It fell onto his neck and rolled to fall in the grass. Sam immediately went to the strap to slip the leather off again. Pippin breathed as thought he hadn't since dawn and Frodo kept stepping out, growing a smile, and placing himself between the Doctor and the Brandybuck.

The doctor looked him up and down. "How dare you resort to sorcery! This is a medical matter!"

Frodo folded his arms at his chest and lifted his chin. "We'll see what the wizard has to say before we make that declaration." He proudly stood guard in front of the doctor to wait out Gandalf's arrival.

Lauren trotted around the yard at them. She flashed a smile at Frodo but it vanished when she saw Merry's leg. "Dear lord." She rushed to his side and sat on the bench where Pippin had been. Her eyes were happy to see him but her brows were perplexed. "Merry, your leg is blue."

Merry cleared his throat and dipped his chin tensely, "Yes, I know."

Lauren faked her naivety, "I did not think you'd put all those blueberries into one place."

Merry's tension crumbled to an old smile. 

Kristana came tearing around the corner next and Bailey was at her heals, but Bailey's fast pace stumbled to a halt as soon as her eyes fell on Pippin. Pippin's eyes were just as cold and hurt in return, but that wasn't the topic now.

Kristana, on the other hand, marched right up behind Lauren and was already sitting down when she tightly ordered Lauren off. "_Move_."

Lauren hurried to untangle herself and her skirts from the bench and stepped quickly away. She apparently took no offense by it, for she flashed a smile again when Frodo glanced back at what was going on.

"You never sent me a message the leeches didn't work," Kristana snapped as she looked over the violet limb and proceeded to take care of him whether he liked it or not.

Merry was struck speechless at her presence in the middle of all these people. Pippin tore his eyes off Bailey, nervously scratched the side of his neck, and winced at Kristana's presence too. The brothers exchanged dramatic winces. This was going to get ugly, but not as ugly as a severed leg, so they unanimously agreed to grin at the upcoming pain.

"What changed your mind?" Merry asked softly, completely baffled about this action.

Kristana took Merry's hand and kissed the back of it to announce she was here where she was supposed to be. "Bailey changed it."

Merry flinched. Pippin blinked. 

Rose wasn't the only one that arrived with Gandalf. Apparently, the lady Gamgee stirred up trouble in Bracegirdle hall by reporting Merry's medical status loud enough to send three women to tear through town to stop it. As a result, several angry men tore off after them for the forbidden visit, and two toddlers were tossed into Gandalf's cart so they wouldn't get left behind.

Within minutes, the north side of the Hill was filled with people. Liam gruffly ordered Kristana to step away and take care of his grandchild. Otho backed him up by ordering Bailey to step around the corner as well, which she did, but only to gather Mick and Elanor to supervise near the chicken coop. Rik yelled at Lauren as well, and though she bowed her head obediently, her eyes weren't so respectful.

Finally, Gandalf parted the sea of people like a giant gleaming razor. A pregnant redhead stomped up after him. As though they didn't believe it before, all four of the quartet took in the sight of him with wide eyes and exhausted smiles as thought their single, group prayer had just been answered. Somehow, everything was going to be okay.

The old wizard almost chuckled as he pushed himself up the slope by his staff. "You certainly tangled yourselves into a wicked net this time."

Rose was already starting to herd the onlookers back around the corner of the hill. She ushered Liam and Otho and flicked a glance to Lauren so she would know to do the same with the Doctor and Rik. Bailey was already gone with the kids. Brown eyes sprang back before rounding the corner. Ice blue eyes stretched out to catch another glimpse as she fetched a wandering little boy. A redhead looked back to wink at her husband. The blonde was left behind. 

As soon as Gandalf was alone with the quartet, Kristana whipped the sheet completely off of Merry's body so Gandalf could get to work.

Merry shriveled at the sudden breeze. His eyes peaked back open at her, one at a time. "What did you do that for?"

"Oh hush." A grin threatened to emerge.

Gandalf leaned forward on his staff to look down at him. "My goodness what a lovely color."

"Why thank you." Merry responded properly.

Gandalf took in a long look at the leg in front of him and compared it to the very healthy one next to it. "Have I mentioned that your local physician is a bit of an eccentric quack?"

Pippin smiled from ear to ear. 

Merry nodded regally, "Once or twice."

Sam dropped his grin into his hand.

"What are you going to do?" Frodo asked from behind Gandalf's elbow.

Gandalf sighed quickly and pressed his mouth to disappear behind his beard for a moment. "I'm going to fix his leg."

Pippin turned to Kristana and muttered respecfully, "You should go."

"No, Peregrin," Gandalf told him from under his white eyebrows. "You should go."

Pippin flinched. Misunderstanding and insult flavored his glare.

Gandalf looked at Sam, "as should you."

Sam stuttered his argument, "But I'm staying to support Merry."

Gandalf glanced around his elbow to Frodo, voicelessly telling him the same thing.

"Why?" Frodo demanded.

"Because you four gentlemen have managed yourselves into briar patches I have no magic to pull you from." He grinned a little, "You've already decided what you're going to do with the precious little time you've been granted. You just haven't done it yet." 

Pippin set an elbow on the table so hard it thumped. "You've only been here a few minutes, Gandalf. How could you possibly-"

Gandalf started to get loud. "I am seven thousand years older that you, Peregrin Took, and that estimate is rounding _down_." His voice calmed and his grin graced his fatherly eyes again. "I deserve a little better respect out of you than to be considered an idiot."

Pippin abruptly closed his mouth.

"You three go on and manage your passionate visitors while the lady and I attend to Meriadoc."

Sam turned with understanding and Frodo followed him after a deep sigh of forced acceptance. Pippin shifted on his feet by Merry's side. He glanced over his shoulder at the intent woman beside him. Pippin was supposed to step out of the way so Kristana could take his life-long post? He turned to glare down at Merry. He tried to shake his head.

Merry smiled groggily at Pippin's expression. "You knew it was going to happen sooner or later."

Grey eyes closed hard.

"Do you remember my last request?"

He grinned, "Yes, you bastard."

"Go do it."

He slapped his palm into Merry's, squeezed hard, and dropped it as he forced his feet away. 

Merry looked up at Kristana and soaked up the sparkle in her blueberry eyes. 

She tucked in and whispered at him as though Gandalf couldn't hear them from twelve inches away. "We'll talk about it later."

Merry pulled her hand over and kissed the back of it. He dropped his head back again and settled confidently that he was in good hands. 

Merry was going to be all right, inside and out, body and soul. Pippin had been relieved and replaced. He felt tremendously abandoned when he turned away from them completely, but it only took a few steps before Pippin truly realized what had transpired between them over the last several months.

Pippin's shoulders rolled back as he walked. His chin hardened and his eyes narrowed. He reached down to swoop up the orc-sword from the grass and squeezed it firmly in his palm. Pippin rounded the corner of the hill, but there was nothing left of Peter Pan.

~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~-- ~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~

**_The New Man of the Family_**

Rose was sitting alone in the grass with Elanor and Little Mick. Pippin told her to take the poppits home to her house in case Merry got loud and/or the Bracegirdles got offensive. Rose agreed and gathered them up. They walked silently around the south side of the hill together until Rose peeled off to lumber down the hill to her own home. 

Several arguments had already ensued. Sam glanced over his shoulder at Pippin's approach.

Pippin motioned back to Rose with the sword. "Go tend to your family."

Sam's brows knitted.

Pippin pugnaciously loosened the shirt around the shoulder of his sword-bearing arm. "This isn't your fight, Sam."

Sam's lips parted. He turned to catch Frodo's eye. Frodo turned around and caught the reflection of the sword. 

Frodo turned back to the Michelin-shaped man that put out a steady stream insults at him. "Would you shut up already?"

Sam sucked in his lower lip and turned away. He slapped a silent good luck on the back of Frodo's shoulder and gave Pippin a smile over the playfully swinging sword. This was going to be fun to watch from the kitchen window.

Pippin stepped up boldly beside Frodo and kept swinging the sword in circles at his shoulder like it was a flag dance. The sight pulled everyone's arguing words to a wary stop.

"I have good news," Pippin told Otho with a tight little glare, and flicked the sword up between their faces to stand hard and steady, gleaming silver in the sunshine. "You're not an orc."

Otho blinked.

Pippin took an eager step forward. 

Otho jumped backwards, and kept going even though one step was all Pippin ever meant to take.

"You're crazy," Otho insisted. 

"Stop coming here." Frodo said with a sigh weary of Sackville-Baggins tenacity. "I don't care for your business."

"Bringing a weapon into a neighborly discussion!" Otho exclaimed as he moved out the gate.

Frodo lifted his chin higher, "I'll draw myself it if ever I see you on my property again."

Otho spat cusswords and huffed off down the hill. Pippin passed the sword to Frodo's hand without ceremony or discussion. 

As Otho faded from the scene, Pippin stood Liam down. And Liam angled his head, facing him back just as hard. Frodo set the tip of the blade into the dirt between his feet and rested his hands casually on the hilt. Rik, Lauren and Bailey were poised behind Mister Bracegirdle, holding their breath for three different reasons. 

 "Where's Kristana?" Liam hissed, clearly finding distaste at his suspicions about why she had come. 

"She's assisting Gandalf save Meriadoc's life," Pippin told him. "You'll have to wait for further details to come from Merry himself."

Liam shifted on his feet. His teeth clenched and his face started turning pink with anger. "You have shamed my family for the last damn time!"

"I've done nothing of the sort."

"You tore my daughter to shreds with your lies and plans and lack of int-"

"She's not your daughter!" Pippin yelled just as loud, silencing the man. "She's my wife." 

From behind him, Frodo's eyes glittered happily at Bailey. He dipped his chin, trying to coax her out from behind her dad.

Liam hissed with a foul curl to his nose. "You have shared no vows-" 

Pippin waved him off and looked intently at Bailey's uncertain eyes. He said it as a statement of fact, rapid and loud, but he was focused on keeping his emotions out of his throat with every word. "I vow to love you for the rest of my life, to be true to you, to honor you, and to take care of you to the best of my ability _as well as_ whatever children you decide to bear for me."  He was too afraid to wait for a reaction from her. He looked back to the sword in Frodo's hand. "I give these vows on this day-" he paused and reached his palm back for the sword. 

Frodo's lips stretched across his face. He turned the blade to Pippin's palm and mumbled a reminder of today's date, "Eleventh of September."

Pippin flicked his palm against the blade and held out a bleeding cut. "- Eleventh of September to Bailey Bracegirdle Took as an affirmation of our marriage." He closed his mouth, pressed a Peregrin grin, and set his chin down with a poignant nod. 

Liam was shaking his head at the insanity. "You can't vow marriage without a ceremony! Without the father's permission! _Without a home to take her to_!"

Pippin tried to listen, but he wasn't paying attention. Grey eyes slid to the side to reel her in by hers. A blood-dripping hand lifted slyly to reach for her. Liam was still arguing how improper and unconventional this all was when Bailey took a step out away from Lauren and closed the distance. 

Liam's childish sounding complains tumbled to a stop when he saw the success smiling from Peregrin's eyes. His daughter was in the man's grip by the time he turned to find her. Bailey held tightly to his bleeding hand and tucked behind Pippin's shoulder to hide from the wrath of her father. 

"There." Pippin lifted his chin back at his disagreeable father-in-law. "Don't dishonor the Took name by digging your nose into my marital business."

Frodo spit out a snicker but tucked it away just as quickly.

Liam's voice was stiff. "Bailey come back here."

Her eyes pleaded for understanding from behind Pippin's shoulder. 

Liam hissed it hard and pointed at his side, "Bailey girl! Get back over here."

The silence was brilliantly painful.

Liam took a stomp forward. _"Bailey!"_

Bailey took a deeper step behind Pippin. Pippin shifted a step deeper in the way. "Mrs. Took will come to call on you when you're not so upset." Pippin reassured calmly.

Liam's face was so red and tight that he looked to blow steam out of his ears. He only considered tackling Pippin for a moment before the tip of a sharp sword showed up at his nose. He flicked back and stepped back and threatened a dozen benign things before he stormed down the road again.

Pippin let the air out of his lungs and turned victoriously at his girl but Bailey was shedding silent tears at her father's back. He thumbed the tear from her cheek. "He couldn't let go, Bailey, but he _can_ get used to it."

She sniffed and smiled at him. "Did you mean it?"

Pippin grinned his cutest of smiles. 

She beamed up at him, put her arms around his neck and permanently stuck herself to him. Pippin went to hold her, but found one palm still dripping a little. He laughed, "Damn that thing is sharp!"

Frodo chuckled and moved around them. He and Pippin managed a hankercheif wrap and tied it around his hand without trying to pry Bailey off of him. Frodo teased quietly. "Aren't you going to kiss the bride?"

Pippin wrapped his arms around her, but his eyes were still on Frodo. "We'll put together a real ceremony when Merry can stand at my side." 

Bailey shifted her face to look up at him with questions.

Pippin grinned. "Wouldn't want to rob your chance at the dress and all that nonsense." 

She tucked in a fresh smile and cuddled deep into his neck. 

Pippin liked it and kept her there, but the business of the day had hardly concluded. He looked passed the Frodo's shoulder to see Rik giving quiet orders to Lauren. 

"Shall I stay with you?"

Frodo shook his head, adjusted the sword in his palm and started to turn. "He's not the enemy," Frodo said somberly, "I am."

Pippin's brows flicked, but seeing the concerned yet non-aggressive expression on the Jainen's face, he started to understand. He nodded at Frodo and manually turned Bailey by the shoulders. He ducked into to whisper in her ear as he walked her down the grassy slope and beyond Sam's place to look over Bagshot #2. 

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**_Was It Wrong?_**

Frodo sighed before turning his shoulders to the couple standing on his front porch. Both pairs of dark brown eyes were entrenched with polar hopes about Frodo's next move. He swung the sword around his shoulder simply as an unconscious fidget, and when he realized the statement it probably made, he rested the flat of the blade on his shoulder and dropped his eyes to the ground to climb through the vegetable garden to them.

"May I have private word with you?" Rik Orin asked politely despite the knot in his throat.

Frodo motioned to the front door. "Let's step inside." 

As they all moved, he accidentally caught Lauren's stare and it hurt all over again. It was the expression that revealed to her what he was going to do. It surprised her, made her feel betrayed, abandoned, sold. . . but it was the very thing he'd claimed he would do all along. It made no sense why he felt guilty about doing it.

When they stepped into the front room, the first thing Frodo did was take the sword out of the picture. He set it lightly aside in a shadowed corner of the room and faced the tall Jainen without it.

Lauren's face was already tucked with agony when she came in. It was harshly odd not to know where to stand or what to do. Frodo glanced at her only momentarily, ready to send her to her room, but he stopped himself that it wasn't his place to do so. 

Rik wasn't stupid, nor was he entirely angry. He turned his mutter to her direction. "Perhaps you should go collect your things, Maela."

Lauren was already crumbling to tears when her eyes shot to Rik. She looked at Frodo and her expression withered more that he was deliberately not looking back. She stepped between them to get through the house, and rushed off before she fell into full tears.

Frodo's eyes closed briefly to yank his soul back under control. He offered it before he opened his eyes, "Would you like some tea?-"

"I know who you are," Rik said, now facing him down. "I knew before Liam and Otho told me Maela was here." He finally looked Frodo in the eyes. "I knelt before you and your friends at Minas Tirith."

Frodo's black brows lightly wrinkled, but he shook his head, "That matters not in this issue."

"You deserve respect," Rik argued but stood his ground anyway, "but not Maela."

Frodo nodded a deep chin. "We didn't know she was married. She's been here nearly eight months—"

"Did you not look for her home?" Rik spat. "You've _been_ to Gondor! Surely, you could see she was half-Jinhai! You didn't go to Gondor to search for her family in Osgiliath! You didn't go to Forlond to inquire in New Jainen Town! You _knew_ these things and still you corralled her here where her memory would have never been coaxed back!"

Frodo was insulted, not angry. "I should not be required to travel all the way to Gondor for something _you_ left behind!"

"Forlond is only a few days away!"

"I've never been to Forlond." Frodo spat with waning patience. "I had no knowledge of a Jainen Town there. Besides, you say it's new. How new is it? How would I have known?"

Rik's anger fell into a mutter. "Osgiliath was flattened. Too many were dead. We couldn't rebuild our lives in Gondor. We traveled by sea-"

"And how is it that Lauren was found half-dead in Hobbiton?"

Rik stepped back and sat down in the nearest chair. "There was a skirmish in Mithlond with a band of raiders. We lost." He licked his lips and shifted to explain. "A long time ago, Maela had been hit head with a piece of flying city from an orc-operated trebuchet. She's suffers a bad eye because of it. I don't know if you noticed, but she bumps into things, bangs her fingers. . . it's easy for her to get lost in the wilderness. Wes searched the north for her and Tan searched the south. As soon as my wounds healed, I searched east. We never thought she'd have gone this far on her own. Something else must have happened."

"Who are Wes and Tan?" Frodo asked stiffly.  
Rik lifted his head. "Wes is our uncle. Tan is her intended and my best friend. Our parents died a long time ago."

Frodo's mouth opened. "Intended?" He stepped forward to the other chair and angled his head at Rik. "She's not married?"

Rik's face lightened, but his tone darkened. "I'm her half-brother." He flashed a smile at that. "She thinks I'm her husband. She doesn't even _remember_ Tan."

Frodo couldn't help but smile with relief about that.

"I wouldn't look so content Mister Baggins. When he finds out about this, Tan _will_ be coming after you."

"Even if she has no recollection of him?" Frodo pointed out. "Surely he must be reasonable enough to understand her memory loss."

Rik shook his head. "The Jinhai way gives him the right to an honor-killing."

Frodo's eyes bulged. "I hope he doesn't mind that I don't lay down so easily!"

Rik shook his head again, but this time he was smiling. "No, you fool. Not _you_. _Her!_ By Jinhai law, he has the right to put her up for town stoning for shaming his name."

Frodo shot to his feet. "She's not going anywhere if she faces certain death at the end of her journey!"

Rik laughed at the reaction and waved the man to sit down. "He probably won't do it. He loves her too much." He leaned back in the chair and shrugged. "Besides, if she can pretend it never happened, and I certainly won't say anything if she asked me, then he'll never know."

Frodo squinted at him, "Have you told her any of this?"

Rik shook his head and laughed a little more like the charade was the perfect prank a brother could do to his little sister, but he did have adult reasons for it. "As soon as I realized she didn't exactly know who I was, I kept it all to myself so I could see what kind of pickle she'd gotten herself into. I found out in the oddest fashion. Last night, her girlfriends came around the Hall and swept her away. I caught them sneaking back in just before dawn." His eyes smiled at Frodo. "Apparantly, the ladies ran down to a nearby creek and got themselves a little tipped with a stolen bottle of spirits," Rik chuckled at the vision. "They came back soaking wet, giggling with guilt, and offering to satisfy my every need just to keep my mouth shut."

"They did not," Frodo insisted, frozen for confirmation.

"All right, that last part isn't true," Rik admitted with a boyish grin. "But they were begging quite penitently. Kristana and Bailey didn't strike me as friends when I arrived, but this morning, they were hooked together by the arms like they were Siamese twins and eluded to plans about taking on another pair simultaneously."

Frodo finally curled his face over to titter at the vision.

"Maela was afraid of me at that point, but she kept claiming she'd been infected by a Hobbit and now she was turning into one- insisting that her name was Laorin instead of _Mae_la Orin. And the redhead that started it all, she was the only sane one of the bunch. I don't even think she was drunk. She gave quite a convincing argument that I should forgive and forget and proceeded to tuck the other three safely into bed."

Frodo smiled form ear to ear and dropped his chin dreamily onto his fist. "So the girls went for a midnight bottle of their own last night."

"They seemed to think they deserved it."

"That, they did." Frodo nodded maturely. "We're not exactly a malleable bunch."

Rik sighed, not excited about getting back to the subject. "Is Maela?"

Frodo sat up again, rubbed his chin a moment and dropped his hand back to his lap. "No, she's not. She stands her ground quite well even if she doesn't remember why."

"Has she showered you with questions about the One Ring? Or tried to get you to take her back to Gondor?" Rik asked as if such a deception were a real possibility. "She was the one voice that didn't want to leave."

"No. She doesn't remember the Ring. All she knows is what I've told her and I haven't told her much. She treats the mention of Gondor with no more interest or recognition than any other faraway place."

Rik huffed through his nose and looked at the air. "Tan is my best friend. I owe him my life. Maela's my only sister. My mother would have wanted me to ensure her happiness. . . . " He faintly shook his head. "I don't know what to do." 

Frodo considered the dilemma as objectively as he could. He shifted forward in his chair, set his elbows on his knees and angled his head to look up at Rik. "There's a man out there on a table with a broken leg, but the woman that comforts him is another man's wife. We don't know what happened to Dirkwallen, just that he should have been back over two years ago. We have a tradition that three years is the magic time to wait before a widow is declared, making her available to other suitors, but Dirkwallen left behind a woman and a babe that needed tending to, and Merry was willing to take on the duty in his absence."

Rik listened to this with stale attention.

"Was it wrong for Merry to love her?"

"In the beginning? Yes."

"But in the _end_," Frodo corrected.

Rik had difficulty with this. "Two years is different than seven months."

"For Tan, understood. But for Lauren, the woman who has no recollection of that love, and for me who had no knowledge of it.... was it wrong?"

Rik shifted forward and set a palm on his knee. "I see your point, but look at Tan's perspective. He fought hard for her, he deserves better than to be left behind and forgotten."

"She's not going to _get_ her memory back, Rik. Tan's an intended that will never see his bride. For all intent and purpose, Maela Orin is dead." He paused when Rik flicked his expression his harsh words. Frodo settled his tone again. "The woman that fell into my care is _Lauren_. And _Lauren_ is the woman that wants to stay. I know what you are searching for, but you aren't going to find her here."

"I can't do that to my best friend."

"But you'll do it to your sister?"

Rik dropped his chin.

"Here's another one." Frodo said, sitting back again. "Pippin has always wanted Bailey, but not _Liam's daughter_. None of us can stand her when she's echoing her father's hard coherence to morality, but she fits in quite well when she's just being herself. Pippin's been trying to straddle the fence between doing things his own way and doing things the way the man of her house wants him to. He finally stood down that controlling father today, and Bailey's true colors finally came through when she stood behind him. Insolent? Yes. But was it wrong?"

"No," Rik shook his head. "I heard the way Liam talked over ale about it. He had some alternate motive, like he trying to settle some kind of a score. His claims had little to do with Bailey's happiness or welfare."

Frodo lifted a brow at how well Rik vocalized his point.

Rik grinned sarcastically, "Do you have one for Sam and his red head too?"

  
Frodo shrugged a smile. "A long time ago, Sam sacrificed everything for a friend, and his friend betrayed him. He went through a deeper trench in hell than the rest of us and yet he still feels guilty about being the first to settle in with a family and drift from the group. He still supports us, but he doesn't lean on us anymore."  
Rik's lower lip shrugged a little.

"After so much darkness and death and injustices, it's difficult to come home and enjoy what you saved, especially when you've left so much of yourself behind. Is it wrong for Sam to feel guilty?"

Rik shook his head evenly. 

"Then why does he?" Frodo asked him.

"I don't know."

Frodo's tone quieted. "Imagine for a moment you were the one that was gone. For whatever horrible reason, your life plans are destroyed, your family permanently wounded, and your love torn between being faithful to you and the ability to move on with her life."

"I'd want to be remembered."

"Remembered, yes, but not mourned forever."

"You speak as though it's _you_ we're talking about." Rik leaned on his elbow leaning on the arm of the chair. 

"I didn't die in Mordor." Frodo pointed out.

"But you were supposed to," Rik responded bravely. 

"By who's declaration?!" Frodo snapped up with instant posture. "Where is it written who is _supposed_ to die and who isn't? Even if you're one who believes that all events have a purpose in some grand scheme, wouldn't that only solidify that those who die, deliberately or accidentally, would rather have the rest of us move on and enjoy what they died for?"

"Tan isn't dead."

"But to her, he never existed."

Rik folded his lower lip in. He dropped his eyes to his lap.

"You are the man of her house. You are the one I ask for a blessing." He pushed himself out of the chair. "I'll do the right thing if you ask me to, but I need her as much as she needs me. Consider that as heavily as you consider Tan's honor."

Rik lifted black-brown eyes at him, still torn in the middle of this decision. 

Frodo pressed a grin of respect, despite his hard words at him, and turned to leave the house so the man could think alone. In due time, he would wander into the back bedroom and talk to the crying woman long enough and honestly enough to discover what her name really was.

~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~-- ~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~

**_Dogs and their True Counterparts_**

Merry was genuinely appreciative at whatever it was that Gandalf did to his leg, but the poor Hobbit was left with a glaring, constant ache that was louder than the pressure sensitive throb he'd already gotten used to. It was difficult to tell, but he and Gandalf insisted that the swelling was already going down. Merry declined being carried back inside right away so he could soak up more of the late summer's day. Instead, afternoon tea was brought to him in the yard. 

Lauren cooked it. Rik declined it. Rose served it. Kristana fed it to him. Pippin teased his need to be babied. Bailey protected him from Pippin. Sam took tender care of his wife. Mick and Elanor play with wandering hens. Frodo numerously shared love-sick glances with his housemaid, and Gandalf laughed at it all.

"Fetch the man a strong bottle," Gandalf said after the meal, and leaned both hands on his staff. "You need to drink."

Merry's head was pressed back into the flat pillow. A painfully tight throat smiled out sarcasm, "You're tellin' me."

"Gandalf!" Bailey whined lightly. "How dare you order them into another drunken stupor!"

Gandalf explained calmly. "It'll thin his blood which will quicken its ability to get back where it's should be." 

Frodo lifted his face with a smile. "And how dare you shun drunken stupors, Bailey!"

Rik stepped back and rapidly shook his head. Pippin squinted at Frodo, came to his feet and looked back at Bailey for explanations. Kristana's eyes widened momentarily, but she couldn't help but grin.

"I hear tell the four of you were down at the water baying at the moon like a bunch of hound dogs," Frodo announced. 

Rose chuckled softly and leaned against her husband's shoulder. 

Bailey set her fists on her hips. "We did not bay at anything!"

Pippin's eyelids fluttered, "You got drunk?"

Kristana looked at him over her shoulder and set her chin, "Ladies don't howl, Mister Baggins."

Merry lifted his chin a little. "Then what _do_ they do?"

The quartet considered this a moment. Then one of girls made a noise, _"Mreow?"_

"Oh no!" Frodo shot out. Kristana's face flashed with laughter. Bailey wrinkled her nose and sniggered into Pippin's shoulder. Rose quietly tucked into Sam with soft humor. Everyone was either laughing or being laughed at in their own unique way.

Everyone but Rik. He had been forgotten for the moment by all except Gandalf.

Gandalf looked back at the Jinhai boy from across the loud crowd. He had wisdom in his gray eyes laden with a heavy sense of sympathy and comfort. 

Rik's eyes dropped to the ground before looking warily over at his happily giggling sister. She had sparkly eyes for that Hobbit next to Gandalf, and that Hobbit was simply echoing the emotions back to her.

Rik looked back at Gandalf. Gandalf understood and agreed.

It took several more minutes to watch the four pairs laugh at each other before Rik could bring himself to do it, but she was no longer his sister.

Rik tucked down to mutter into her ear. He pushed gently on the small of her back. 

Lauren's face fell into shock, but blossomed back just as quickly.Rik muttered to her about his intentions. He wasn't leaving for good; he was just leaving for now. He'd return tomorrow to discuss this decision in further detail. 

The Jainen gave Frodo a manly nod of respect and silently stepped back out of the scene. Only Gandalf noticed he was leaving before he was gone.

Everyone else's attention snagged on Lauren's new movement. She crossed the grass and Frodo came to his feet to take her in. Her body flattened against him. Her arms hugged his waist and her face tucked with happy tears into his neck. Her breath tickled when it danced across his chin, "I love you."

Frodo tightened his arms around her shoulders and held her as long as she would let him. He imagined the road they'd traveled from then to now and he wondered, for the first time since the Ring, where the road of life might lead them in the future.

_The Ring_. He almost opened his eyes, but smiled instead. 

Frodo had completely forgotten about the Ring.

He nudged his mouth into her smooth hair and uttered it with every fiber of his being. "I love you too."

~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~-- ~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~

**_Bag End Hall_**

A lot of tension had been lifted, but not all of it. Gandalf led three of the hobbit men to the very north end of this particular set of acreage. They were silent as they wandered to where field met the woods, and centered them in the shallow chasm of the oval depression. The sinkhole took up a great deal of the bowl's center, destroying their chance of plowing out a good crop of anything. 

Sam scratched the top of his head and started looking depressed all over again.

"Do you see anything out of the ordinary?" Gandalf asked.

Pippin stood next to Gandalf and looked down the back field to the road, "the sinkhole?"

Gandalf fought the urge to reach back and whap him upside the head.

Frodo stepped up beside Sam and angled his head to look at the field. The grass was rich around the spot and wildflowers danced in the wind on the hilltops and slopes, but the earth was bitten, black, and raw in the middle of it all. Even the sides of the sinkhole had sunk, as if it too had been bitten vertically out in the shape of a large round circle.

Sam's brows lifted.

Gandalf gave a long glance back at them.

Frodo received Gandalf's expression and stepped out in front of them. He squinted hard to look closer at the shape in the mud wall and stepped curiously closer to the edge of the sink hole.

Sam leapt to follow him. 

"What is it?" Pippin asked.

Frodo didn't answer and so the other two followed him to try and see what he was seeing. They met up at the edge to look into the mud pit. 

Frodo pointed. Pippin and Sam tried to look down his finger to see something small, but Frodo pointed at something big. 

The side of the sinkhole was in fact depressed in a perfect circle. Some chucks of earth were already falling away from a flat, wood-planked surface, but it's most telling feature was the fist-sized ball of mud smack-dab in the center of it. 

Sam's head flinched back when he finally saw the shape in the mud. "Is that a door?"

Pippin curled his lip and looked around the edge to find the hints of similar shapes in the pit. "We seem to have plowed overtop of some abandoned house."

A grin lit Frodo's blue eyes and a single word fluttered from his smile. "Bilbo."

Merry and Kristana were fine to stay at the table and watch the children, but everyone else gravitated to watch the discovery. It took a great deal of rigging to throw a strong rope down the side and the three men shimmied down to explore the bottom of their very own archeological dig.

The base of the hole wasn't entirely mud. It was mud caked onto broken and rotting cut planks of wood. During their careful walk to the other side, a brass chalice was excavated. Frodo was the first to get to the door and started wiping off the doorknob in the center. He debated mildly with Pippin and Sam about whether or not opening it would undermine what little stability the structure had left. 

"We didn't come down here for a dented brass chalice," Sam pointed out.

Pippin nodded in agreement.

Frodo gently turned the door knob. 

Of course, it didn't open.

Once upon a time, Bag End was a hall. It was deduced that the eccentric bachelor and lord of the Hill closed off the parts of it he couldn't use and or couldn't keep up, and eventually forgot about them. All this must have predated Gandalf's first visit as well, for the wizard knew nothing about the bottom floor of Bag End.

It took all three of them and synchronized shoving shoulders to get the door to budge. A great deal of lanterns had to be passed down to light the inside of the structure. Pippin flattened a spot in the middle of the sinkhole and exhumed a stick to start drawing a map in the mud. It wasn't until nightfall when the catacombs were found to reach north and east, and even the ladies inside Bag End were holding candles and lanterns when Frodo, Pippin, and Sam carried loot up a hidden set of stairs and pushed through a door that, up to now, had been covered by a plain case of bookshelves. 

A dust-caked bottle of one hundred year old scotch was delivered for Merry to enjoy. Other liquors, spirits, and potions were gathered in a corner of the house to peruse later. Most everything else they'd found was rotted or broken. . . except for a single small chest of forgotten jewels.

~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~-- ~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~

**_Life Goes On_**

Leaves were starting to turn on the giant sycamore that towered the mill. Summer was over. Autumn had begun. And Frodo turned 36.

He strolled over the bridge and drew in a deep inhale of fresh air. Dusk drifted neon colors over the sky and the pond glittered bright mango and midnight blue reflections. The tranquil evening was accented by warm fires and hearty laughter escaped the loose confines of the pub, which was, of course, where they were going.

"It's almost no fun anymore without having Rosie to stare at behind the counter," Sam quipped.

Frodo shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged. "So stare at somebody else."

Sam flashed a smile. Good idea, but it wouldn't have done Sam any good. His voice tucked under. "I've been meaning to ask you, Frodo. Did you give Rik Orin any compensation before he left?"

Frodo pressed a big smile across his face. "I gave him my eldest chicken."

Sam threw his head back and laughed.

"What's so damned funny?" Merry grumbled. "Wait up, would you?"

They turned to see him hobbling along on a cane and a hard-wrapped, still-healing leg. Frodo and Sam stopped their feet, clasped their hands patiently in front of them, and waited. "Would you like us to carry you?" Frodo offered.

Pippin cackled just to dig the joke in deeper.

Merry walked as fast as his broken, unbendable leg would carry him, "Shut the hell up." He pushed between the pair and hobbled along, now leaving them behind.

Pippin lifted his chin and his brows to give them his classic, smug and happy grin and lightly strolled along behind Meriadoc.

Sam and Frodo bumped shoulders when they turned to resume their easy stroll down the bridge. 

"What do you think the ladies are doing right now?" Pippin queried the rest.

Merry kept pushing himself along as though he'd been severed from the pub for far too long. "Making plans for us."

"Comparing notes about us," Frodo teased.

Sam shrugged, "They're probably wondering the same thing about us."

The air paused for a beat, then the other three shook their heads unanimously, "No. They know exactly what we're doing."

The young bar wench flirted with all four of them when the stepped inside, but her eyes batted faster at Frodo. Pippin informed her gruffly that the man was spoken for and sent her off to fetch four pints. Merry hobbled a direct line to an unoccupied table near the front wall and managed to sit down at it before the others had caught up with him. He lifted his leg with both hands, and Pippin shoved in the opposite bench so he could rest his calf on it. Frodo sat down on Merry's left. Sam scooted in on Merry's right, and Pippin pulled up a real chair to sit at the end of the table behind Frodo's shoulder. 

When the fresh faced, big boobed bar bitch came around with four frothing mugs of beer, the four of them hooted out cheers and lifted their arms to do the wave.

"Happy Birthday, Frodo." They clanked ceramic mugs against each other and proceeded to pour it down their necks. Pipes unfolded from lapels and tobacco was dug out of pockets. They calmly sat back as a row of hoodlums and watched with entertainment how the rest of the patrons made complete fools of themselves.

Pippin's eyes were smiling at something when he sighed loudly with content. Frodo saw the plumply pink bar wench coming their way. Merry grinned guiltily and nudged Sam to pay attention. Sam looked at her from behind the rim of his mug, trying not to see how her breasts had further escaped her bodice.

Something hard thudded against the bottom of the table.

The quartet burst into rowdy laughter and they laughed so hard that tears came to their eyes. One would try to drink his beer and another would add another indecent comment. Soon enough, they'd drawn attention from some of the elder, more reserved patrons.

"Pipe down over there!"

"Keep your foul minds to yourselves!"

"There isn't a proper thing about them anymore."

Offended, Sam hooted strongly, "Sauron's gone because of us."

Merry tried to nudge him to calm him down.

"Back off!" Pippin agreed. "The shire is safe because _we_ got him."

Frodo shook his head and muttered to them to calm down. He flicked a grin back to Merry. Merry agreed with a smile. They leaned into each other, motioned for Sam and Pippin to join in. The quartet raised their beers to the air and pushed out a loud and deep audacious song:

.

_Don't put my name_

_In mud of shame_

_You're not that far above me!_

_._

_My booze is cool_

_My pipe is full_

_My woman truly loves me!_

_._

_So, stow your whine_

_I've served my time_

_In __Hanoi__, Hell and Hades!_

_._

_And that is why_

_You can't deny_

_My liquor, leaf and ladies!!_

~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~-- ~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~

This story has been dedicated to:

**_Phillip "Jay" Thomas_**

North Carolina Country Boy

United States Navy

KIA 1991

_"The shire is saved, so rest easy, Jay. We got him."_

~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~-- ~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~


End file.
